


Excessive Training

by WhippedMeringue



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Politics, Reader-Insert, Rivalmance, Sexual Tension, Smut, Space Politics, some side hux/reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-05-19 08:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 103,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19353301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhippedMeringue/pseuds/WhippedMeringue
Summary: "Everything is negotiable. Whether or not the negotiation is easy is another thing." - Carrie FisherWars, much like everything else, are won through negotiations. Negotiations of contracts, allies, resources, relationships, and power. You are Snoke's chief negotiator and counselor, his political protege. When he senses a weakness in you, he sends you to the Finalizer, and there you encounter a man who doesn't believe in negotiation. A man who takes what he wants: Kylo Ren.Unadulterated smut in chapters 5, 7, 12, 15, and 20. Adulterated smut throughout.Latest Chapter:Chapter 20: Forsaken





	1. Arrival

 

            “This seems excessive, Supreme Leader.” Soft blue light emanated off of the hologram. The glowing image of the man projected by your droid paralleled Spira’s crystalline blue ocean in front of you. The gravel of his voice, however, was a stark contrast from the gentle gurgle of waves hitting soft white sand.

            “If the Resistance discovers Skywalker it may mean more trained force sensitive will soon be among their ranks. I cannot risk sending you out without knowing you are prepared for such means.” Both the Resistance and the First Order were searching for the location of the last Jedi Master, but you considered it a pointless vanity project. You were interested in securing funds, contracts, and resources. Those were the key ingredients to a successful government. The rapid construction of the Starkiller Base had been a monumental drain on said funds, contracts, and resources. Stress regarding its impending completion had also drained you, thus the sunbathing on the resort planet. Nothing like a solar recharge. However, recent developments seemed to perturb your master more than practical matters.

            Visiting collectors of rare artifacts, socializing with famous artists, attending nondescript meetings on resort planets—you were not the usual suspect for military abduction or interrogation. There was no reason for anyone outside the Supreme Leader’s inner circle to believe you had a working knowledge of an entire galactic military operation. He was being paranoid.

            You relished in the feeling of silk stir under your skin as you stretched out your naked figure, taking in the star’s rays. “The likelihood that a Resistance agent would even contemplate interrogating me is questionable-“

            The specter raised a silencing hand, “Do not think of the decadence I grant you as some shield. I gave you freedom as a means to an end, not so you could abandon your duty to the Order. Or should I find someone more obedient?” Even as a hologram your master’s stare chilled the blood in your veins.

            You had displeased him. Without pause, you knelt to the ground, pressing your face against the sand. “No, Supreme Leader. Please forgive me.”

            After a long pause, his voice came again, appeased. “You will report to the _Finalizer_ for training. You will not partake in any further operations until it has been determined that you can withstand more advanced interrogation.”

            Still not daring to look up at him, you could feel fine grains of sand in the crease of your skin as your brows knit together. “The _Finalizer_? Am I not returning to you on the _Supremacy_ for this training, Supreme Leader?”

            “I have faith my pupil will be able to manage this, for now.” you stifled a moan. Being suspended from operations was unfortunate, but being housed among the troops was borderline torture. Nothing like the omnipresence of regulations and bureaucracy to remind you of how trapped in the cold depths of space you were. Moments like these made the irony of you allegiance palpable, but you did like order—you just preferred it be on your terms. There were also rumors about the master’s prized pupil you did not want to confirm. But there was nothing you could do.

            “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

 

~~~

 

            Spira and Scarif were similar at first glance when viewed through an observation window coming out of light speed. So, when you groggily relented that your drug induced flight nap was over and started to open your eyes, you panicked. Did your transport not leave port, or did they have to turn around while you were sleeping? The idea of having to be in open space on a small craft for a minute longer than necessary put your stomach in knots. Thankfully, the pilot announced you were coming upon the _Finalizer_ and would begin docking procedures, shortly. Outside the window, the massive star destroyer crawled into view, flanked by landing shuttles moving what you assumed was tech and munitions between Scarif’s operations base and the flagship. Had this trip been during your first year with the Order, back when you were still wide-eyed and easily impressed, you would have pressed your face against the transparisteel to try and take in the massive size of the _Finalizer_. Marveled at how it swallowed up your entire field of vision as the shop got closer. Now you knew how big a ship could be, whether it was the _Supremacy_ or _Starkiller Base_. This was just another battleship with extensive operating costs you had to make sure were covered, and, as a more pressing matter, in space. Some days you wish you had just run off to become a farmer or something that would require you to never get on anything more sophisticated than a speeder or a trailer

            Slouching back into your seat, you tried to recover a sense of calm before you would have to greet your new hosts. If you were going to survive your stay, it was necessary you make an impression as soon as your boots connected with the hangar bay. Military types needed hierarchy in every relationship, and since you had no position in the chain of command, you were going to have to project some form of power they would recognize. Money and style were universal signifiers, so your first step had been to dress to impress: fitted black slacks which tapered into short, polished brown boots, and a blouse made of the finest black silk that tucked in at your waist. It had long sleeves that flowed behind you, making you feel like you had a pair of shadowy wings. You used your accessories to establish your allegiance, sporting a heavy gold hexagon pendant that hung on a long chain, and a pair of ruby drop-earrings. A little garish, maybe, but clear in intent. You took one final glance down at yourself, tucking the blouse into your dark brown belt, checking if you had forgotten anything. You couldn’t remember if they had given you an ID badge. Would you have to wear your designation information if you didn’t have a uniform?

“R.C.” Rex Counselor. Advisor to the Supreme Leader. Negotiator of the Ruling Council. There were several assignments to the two letters, but none of them seemed to fully encompass your role. Within the Order, it replaced your given name; one more reason you couldn’t wait to get off the Finalizer. The designation always made you feel like less of a person and more like a machine. Your name, the sound of it, was something you missed almost than solid ground beneath your feet.

            Two stormtroopers scurried onto the ship as soon as the shuttle’s ramp hit the hangar bay, taking instructions from the pilot about your belongings. His sharp tone made it clear your belongings were meant to be handled with care, so you offered no additional advice, and instead focused on getting out of the cramped craft. One trunk was filled with your usual traveling items, while another trunk had been sent over from your quarters on the _Supremacy_. Clothes, data drives, jewelry, treatises, shoes, blackmail records, droid maintenance kit, and your most important possession: an oversized blanket of nerf wool. You liked to be cozy when you slept, and the commissary never had good blankets.

A petite six-legged droid followed behind you, its stubby, rounded limbs tinkering along the floor as it followed. As the two of you walked out into the bright light of the hangar, you were greeted by a decidedly irritated red-head and a handful of junior officers. General Hux. Tall, lean, and immaculately groomed, you marveled how he managed to always have an expression that suggested someone had scratched their ass before sticking a finger right under his long nose. His jet-black uniform, as usual, was absent of any indication of prior wear.

            “General Hux, so kind of you to greet me personally.” You glided towards him until there was less than a foot of space between you, extending your fingertips to brush along one of his lapels. “Thank you,” you purred. A power play for the star-struck officers.  Anyone watching the exchange would have thought you had an amicable relationship, maybe even a flirtatious one. They would be wrong. Two young, intelligent, ambitious humans that both vied for recognition from the Supreme Leader? It was a miracle the two of you had managed to keep your interactions passive aggressive as opposed to throat slitting. 

            Seeing right through your act, he gave you a leaden smile, neither rejecting the contact nor reciprocating it. “You are here at our Supreme Leader’s direction. I want to ensure that you find yourself comfortable.” For all of his airs, his eyes betrayed him, full of distaste. You knew as soon as the two of you were alone, he would drop the act. “Did you have an uneventful flight?”

            “Yes, thank you for asking. I’m glad to see that our flagship looks as magnificent as ever.” You flashed an appraising look to the junior officers, letting your comments float across them with an effervescent tone. “However, I don’t want to take up your time. Can you please have my things sent to my quarters so we can go meet with High Command?” You gestured to the droid at your feet to follow the Stormtroopers and make sure your things were undisturbed.

            “Of course, Counselor,” he waved to a lieutenant, who affirmed her tasks and began directing the stormtroopers. “Shall we?” He gestured towards the exit and you fell into step beside him.

 

~~~ 

 

            The walk seemed to take you across the entire length of the vessel before entering a conference room. The room was nothing inspired, much like the rest of the ship, just minimalist design in black and steel. First Order efficiency. Hux had telegraphed details of the ship as you traveled to your destination as if you weren’t familiar with its general specs after reviewing budgets and contracts for it, but the layout was something you focused on retaining. For a military craft during a cold war, you noticed that the ship was bustling. The lieutenant who had been trailing behind you, a short, pale man, Hux’s assistant probably, did not follow you inside the conference room.

            The blast door closed behind you, and Hux found his place at the head of the table. Finally alone, his expression shifted from cordial disinterest to smug bastard. He made no effort to hide his attention as he swept his gaze up and down your body. “You certainly love to make an entrance. Did you have nothing more suitable to wear?”

            Instead of hiding from his gaze or biting back, you turned your attention to a table of prepared refreshments. Asserting dominance early was key. “I own nice things, General. I like to wear them.”

            “You like to distract my men, is what you mean.” You could hear the sound of his body pulling at the leather of his seat as he moved to shamelessly get a better look at you. Hux thought he was showing he could abuse his authority and enjoy looking without repercussions, but the reality was that he was not the first idiot commander to notice that you were attractive. You paid him no mind, instead pouring two glasses of water and bringing one to him before pacing the room with your own.

            You didn’t offer a denial to his accusations, more interested in letting him fill the silence with a statement of his true intentions. His eyes tightened down to points. “What are you doing on my ship?”

He seemed to be getting comfortable, so you elected to take a seat right by the blast door, the opposite end to the table. You leaned in, resting your chin on the tops of your hands, smiling. “Are you not happy to see me, General?”

            The redhead scoffed, nostrils flaring. “You tend to meddle in things you know nothing about, Counselor. You have no military background, but I’m expected to let you sit in on High Command meetings? No, I am not happy to see you.”

            “Pity. Well, I hope your apprehension doesn’t get in the way of our business, General.” You inspected the non-existent dirt under your nails, ignoring his attitude. “Should we begin expecting the rest of High Command to join us soon? Established a comm-link?”

            “Not today. Just the Trimuvate.”

            As if summoned, the blast door opened behind you. You didn’t bother to stand as two helmeted giants flanked around the table on either side, one chrome, one black. Captain Phasma and Commander Kylo Ren. Your master’s infamous apprentice. Layers of robes hid his frame, but you attempted to size him up. One thing was certain: he was big. A head taller than you, or at least it felt that way, and broad. Previous conversations with Snoke had confirmed that he was a younger man, but his mask hid any confirmation of the fact. You imagined pulling it off, finding a creature scared by the dark side, just like your master.

            “Good to see you, Counselor.” The modified voice of the other woman brought you back to the moment, and a smile to your lips.

            “You as well, Captain.” Phasma wasn’t a stranger, a regular contact as one of your tasks was to ensure the Stormtrooper program was always bringing in young blood. Developing the most advanced and disciplined force in the galaxy took plenty of resources, but the rewards made it worth the investment. Unlike Hux, Phasma always treated you with respect, willing to listen when she may not have all the information. “I hope the new training equipment from Sonn-Blas has been put to good use?”

            The chrome mask nodded, as close to facial expression as the captain could manage. “The training droids are much more durable than the previous iterations.” It wasn’t protocol for Stormtroopers to remove their helmets on duty, but you knew the handsome smile she likely giving you. You always thought it was a waste she had to wear a mask after the first time you had seen her face: a video-con when the signal was too garbled for her to strain communication further with the effect of a voice modifier. You also knew that she had a glare that would have easily whipped the other two members of the Trimuvate into line if it wasn’t hidden.

            “Good to know.”

            Hux introduced you to the hulking mass of black, who gave no acknowledgment of your presence, just awkward silence. No ‘hello, nice to meet you,’ or even a ‘what the krif are you doing here.’ Even the ginger general seemed uncomfortable with the lack of pleasantries. Yeah, well, you didn’t need to say anything either. “Well, as all persons of interest are present, let’s begin.” He started tapping on the control panel embedded in the table, and a hologram showing the face of a puffy, bald man and a luxury yacht popped to life. “Recently, Senator Erudo Ro-Kiintor of Hevurion had his yacht stolen by Resistance fighters. On the ships navicomputer, there was information regarding our operations, but more importantly, the information he was intending to deliver to us.” One of your eyebrows popped up. What could be more concerning than the Resistance gaining tactical information? “Information regarding Lor San Tekka.”

            Another man’s face popped up, one with soft eyes, and a trimmed beard. “Lor San Tekka has managed to evade detection for a number of years. Given his long-standing position in the Church of the Force and close relationship with the old Jedi Master, we believe that he may know the location of Luke Skywalker.”

            “If anyone knows where _he_ is, it would be Tekka.” The electronically muddied voice gave you a start. It was difficult to tell emotions through those damned helmets, but the edge when he referenced the Jedi master was detectable through even the grain. His hands clench and flex on the table, as if desperate for a physical outlet. Rather large hands. The kind that could crush a person’s neck. The kind that could hold you down with ease. You swallowed without thinking. There was no reason for your mind to drift in _that_ direction, but drift it did. What was it they said about big hands? You had seen Ren from a distance once or twice on the Supremacy when meeting with Snoke, but you had never been introduced. Never given the chance to appreciate his rather overwhelming aura. You were suddenly imagining those big hands grabbing you, pushing you down, ripping off your clothes—where was _that_ coming from?

            The tell-tale buzz of an incoming headache dragged along your temple, probably from the long transport ride. You turned your attention away from his hands and back to the meeting, and saw that the chrome-inlay visor of his helmet was facing you. Remembering how Snoke could use the force to peer into your thoughts, you felt a slight flush hit your cheeks. You hoped he had not been paying attention for long. Quickly looking away, you tried to focus on Hux’s continued exposition. A new face was being projected; younger and handsome, with a head of thick dark curls. “We have identified the leader of the Resistance squadron as Poe Dameron. We have kept an eye out for him, and he was recently seen on Ovanis. We believe he may have a lead on Tekka.” The General turned to Phasma. “I want you to send an agent to track Poe and attempt to capture Tekka first.”

            The table top clattered in its bolts as Kylo Ren jumped up, slamming his hands flat against the table. “I can track this Resistance scum. Tekka should be left to me.”

            Hux gave no indication that he was startled if he was. He must have been used to the other man’s temperament. “These order’s come directly from the Supreme Leader, Ren. Besides,” the general gave you a pointed look, “my understanding is you have orders that require you to be here.” It looked like you were going to be his scapegoat. What a perfect way to start a relationship with a man with a notoriously lethal temperament.

            “I’m not going to sit here and babysit while they get closer to Skywalker!” His gloved hands were gripping the edge of the table as if he was planning on flipping it across the room. _Well, that’s just offensive_ , you let out a huff of air.

            Instead of fearing his temperament, it was becoming clear that Hux enjoyed antagonizing the other man. “You are more than welcome to bring it up with the Supreme Leader, but I have no say in the matter. Though, this does seem to be an accurate assessment on his part.” You had never seen a more genuinely happy look on the general’s face.

            For a brief moment, everyone in the room was waiting to see what Kylo Ren would do. Would he really throw the table?

            With a guttural snarl, he stormed out of the room, probably to skewer an unlucky trooper or technician, if rumors were to be believed. No one spoke for a moment after the blast door closed, seemingly letting the atmosphere or gravity reset.

            Hux turned back to Phasma. “Can you see to it?”

            She gave another sharp nod. “I have someone in mind for the job. A senior agent who needs to prove his worth.”

“Good. Send me the information once you have prepared a dossier. I believe it requires no instruction, but just in case, this discussion does not leave this room. Information regarding this mission will only be granted to those with explicit clearance from myself.” Hux stood, Phasma joining suit. You didn’t have a chance to stand before he had walked to your side, his sharp glare pushing you down into the seat. “Counselor, the Supreme Leader may want you here for some reason, but should you step even a toe out of line, I will have you on a transport shuttle headed to some back-water moon without hesitation. Keep your mouth shut and stay out of my way.” He seemed to be letting out any disgust before leaving the room, where he would once again fake congeniality.

            His attitude was starting to rub you a little raw. “Don’t worry; I promise I won’t interfere with your daily love letters to the troops or meticulous grooming routine.” You let your silent laughter play across your features. “That’s what you do here, right? Drone to the troops about the accomplishments of others, I suppose.”

            The general’s muscles went stiff, the insult seemingly sending him into a seizure. Phasma had just opened the blast door and seemed to be considering if she had time to close it again before she had to restrain the man.

            Gums showed as he snarled, like an akk dog raising its haunches. “You are _nothing_ but the Supreme Leader’s whore. You do nothing but talk and fuck while I lead an entire army across this galaxy. You are nothing without the Supreme Leader.”

            This brought you to your feet. Yes, he was insulting you, but he was also insulting the Supreme Leader. “ _You_ are nothing _without_ your guns and your ships. _I_ ensure that you have those guns and ships. You are nothing without me. Nothing without this whore,” you spat in Hux’s face. The fury that rose in his cheeks was deliciously satisfying.

            Before he could retort, you swept away towards the exit, black silk billowing behind you. Hux’s assistant, who had the terrible misfortune of having been waiting for his general, was standing right outside. You stopped short and glared at the man, who turned seemed to try to sink into the wall. “Hurry up and show me where I’ll be staying on this miserable craft.”

            You didn’t bother to check if the lieutenant had followed as you stomped down the hallway. Hux’s opinion of you was no mystery, but that didn’t mean you were going to tolerate it. You certainly weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing his words affect you. His insult stung, perhaps because there was some truth to it, but not enough to invalidate your presence, your purpose. Snoke considered you his right hand—he had even used those exact words! The most powerful man in the galaxy took the time to train you in the art of politics and manipulation, in the study of the human mind, and most importantly, in the achievement of his own ambitions. Did he also make sure you were pretty and comfortable? Yes, but it was just one more tool of your shared trade.

            Lost in your internal tirade, you hardly noticed the ominous presence ahead until you rounded the corner and ran face first into the wall-like chest of one Force apprentice.

            “Oh, I am so sorry,” You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed the now-throbbing tip of your nose. “I should have been paying more attention—” Your words made a full stop as you identified with whom you had collided. The one man you were pretty convinced was going to smother you in your sleep already, was the man you had offended. Again. “Commander Ren, I am so sorry—”

            “You seem to have a habit of getting lost in your own thoughts, Counselor. Maybe you really do need someone to keep track of you.” You couldn’t tell through the voice modifier if he was angry or jesting, but the definite edge from before wasn’t there. Sheepishly staring up into the helmet, you suddenly were acutely aware of how close he was; he had not bothered to move away after the collision. If anything, it felt like he had slid even further into your personal space. “If I’m going to be stuck looking after you, I would ask that you pay attention during our training, at least. I don’t appreciate it when people waste my time.” He pulled his robe back to show his notorious lightsaber.

            If he was going to posture, you certainly weren’t going to back down. You weren’t taking shit from either him nor Hux. Straightening up, you directed a cat-like grin through the slits of the silver visor. “I have no intention of wasting anyone’s time, Commander. That would be no way to repay you for, what did you call it, ‘babysitting’ me?”

            The poor lieutenant had finally caught up with you. Did if he always manage to approach his superiors just when they were most likely to kill him? “Apologies, Counselor. I have directions to your suite if you are ready to head that way?” The officer’s eyes darted between you and Ren, aware of the rising tension.

            “Ah, thank you, Lieutenant.” The officer gestured back the way you had come; you had gone the wrong way. If he was smart, the lieutenant would avoid any path that would have you crossing paths with his general. “Forgive me, Commander. It looks like we’ll have to discuss my inattentive nature at another time.” You turned and followed your guide, who’s pace indicated a panicked flight.

            A dark voice followed you down the corridor. “Tomorrow, 1300 hours. Interrogation Room 2A.” As you looked over your shoulder, you caught him clenching and unclenching his fists. The edge in his voice was back.

            For just a moment, your eyebrows raised and your mouth slightly parted, but you caught yourself and quickly fixed a congenial smile in place. “Until then.” You nodded and turned the corner, heading towards the nervous officer. It looked like you were going to war sooner than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter, y'all! So much love is headed your way.
> 
> This is my first fic, so if anyone is interested, I would desperately love to beta this. Any and all feedback is welcome!


	2. The First Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Supreme Leader said you have some sensitivity?” You nodded. “We’ll have to see if it does you any good. For now,” he began to circle you, leaving your fixed line of sight, “I will try to train you as I have learned. You must focus on building a wall.”
> 
> “Yes, that is what I believe we are here for, but thank you for the metaphor.” The humor of your voice was stained with anxiety. “How will we be achieving this?”
> 
> The knight’s mask came back into sight, closer this time. “No, you must build a wall in your mind. To keep me out. That is how you resist the Force’s intrusion. Now, build your wall...."
> 
> ...
> 
> Chapter Two, in which we find out that Snoke is definitely hiding things from both his apprentice and his protege, and Kylo Ren is a terrible teacher. Oh, and someone gets tied up.

 

            _His master’s request confused Kylo from the start. When analysis had finally determined what data had been stolen from the navicomputer on the incompetent senator’s ship, Snoke had told him to focus all of his attention on how to get ahead of their enemies and assured him he would be deployed as soon as they secured a lead. That had only been a few weeks earlier. Now, when they had finally determined the identities of the Resistance scum, his master was telling him he had to train one of his administrators to supposedly resist the Force?_

_“I mean no offense, Master, but no one we know of in the Resistance is trained, and even then, it is unlikely someone without Force sensitivity could even manage it. Shouldn’t I be focused on finding Skywalker?” He knelt as he said the words, knowing he was speaking out of turn._

_The heavy pause in the holo-chamber let him know that Snoke was considering his words. Maybe he would be able to change his master’s mind. Kylo was surprised that he wasn’t immediately berated for questioning the Supreme Leader’s request. “Perhaps, but it is still a danger.” Kylo swore inside. He was so close to killing the man who ruined his life, fed him lies, and now he was going to be tethered to the star destroyer by the short leash of obligation. “Besides, while you are training her, you may be solving another problem I have.”_

_“Another problem?” Kylo wondered how wasting his time with a politician could solve any problem the Order had. In his experience, the best way to solve problems with politicians was to get rid of them. Permanently, if possible. They were all just blustering pockets of hot air._

_The Supreme Leader chuckled; something that terrified even Kylo Ren. “I’m concerned my little Counselor is not as_ loyal _to our cause as she once was. She’s been given far too much freedom and so little discipline.” Kylo watched the image of his master recline back. “You need to bring her back to me.” Snoke spoke of her like she was a pet that had wandered away from home. This was not the first time he had spoken of her. Kylo knew that the Supreme Leader favored her, trusted her to administer on his behalf. Sometimes during training, his master would leave to see her, abandoning Kylo to meet her for some reason or another. Snoke would refer to Kylo as his left hand, and her, his right. Rumors had floated that she was not just his right hand, but his consort. Kylo had dislocated the shoulder of the last officer he heard say such a thing, but Kylo sometimes suspected he was right. Why else would Snoke spend time with just another political flunky over him, if not for something more?_

_“What do you want me to do?”_

_His master pulled up a hologram of the young woman he had seen once or twice, but never up close. He understood why those rumors circulated, seeing her well-formed body and pretty face. Even through the hologram, the set of her lips and eyes captivated. “Whatever is necessary. Hurt her, break her if necessary. She is of no use to me unless I can be certain of her allegiance.” A tight-lipped smile that would haunt Kylo pulled at the broken skin of Snoke’s face. “Don’t fret, my young apprentice. You will know what to do, and I am certain you will enjoy it.”_

_Kylo didn’t know what that meant, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. He knew the pain and ferocity his master wielded against those that opposed him: he had been on the other end. He was uneasy. The entire situation felt forced, as if something important was being held from him. Something he would uncover, even if it meant playing along. “Tell me more about her.”_

_Snoke’s grin widened until it broke into a laugh._

 

~~~

  

            You spent the morning exploring the ship, discovering the mess halls, the training centers, the hangar, the medical bay, and the bridge, forming a mental map. Being late for your first training because you got turned around was not an option. The lieutenant from the night before, Mitaka, had been coaxed into giving you a brief overview of the ship’s layout before taking you to your room.

Mitaka had explained where the Stormtroopers were housed and trained by Captain Phasma in case you wanted to observe them, and where administrative offices were located so you could attempt to work remotely if you desired. Snoke had said you weren’t allowed to take additional missions, but he hadn’t forbidden you from reviewing other’s work. Starkiller Base was in its final phase and you were anxious about remaining contracts. He finally left you in the officer’s wing, where your guest suite had been arranged. “And don’t worry ma’am; the General and Commander Ren’s rooms are in a separate part of the ship.”

Several pairs of eyes lingered on you while you meandered; even a few troopers gave themselves away by turning to look. You figured anyone not sporting a uniform was an unfamiliar sight on the Finalizer, particularly someone young. Normally, you didn’t like to mingle with the troops—you were content to act behind the curtain—but given the expected duration of your stay, you needed to make they recognized your authority. You weren’t some poor diplomat or civilian who had been unfortunate enough to wind up on a star destroyer in the middle of the Outer Rim. No, you were a superior official in the First Order, with all the powers-that-be at your back, inspecting their operations. Or some nonsense like that. Whatever the rumor mill decided to churn out.

A late lunch was the last item on your agenda before your appointment with the seething commander. You stopped by your chambers to grab a light meal of vegetable juice and eggs, and to collect your droid so it could record and log the results of your training. MH3’s chrome limbs made a noise similar to a chorus of bell chimes as his six limbs crawled along behind you. The biometric droid resembled a cross between a BB unit and a small arachnid. You didn’t care for the company of droids, but MH3 was a top of the line esthetician and personal assistant, without the hassle of an overwhelming personality or advanced AI. It kept your calendar organized and your skin glowing. And even though you would never admit such a thing, it was cute and helped fill the furry companion shaped void in your life. You always wanted a canine, but you were always traveling. MH3 was not a dog, but you enjoyed watching it whirl around on its stubby little legs.

The interrogation chambers were deep in the belly of the ship, situated so, in the unlikely scenario someone managed to escape, they could be apprehended before they made it to one of the hangars. Unlike the rest of the ship, which was bright, metallic, and full of bustling people, the interrogation rooms were dim, dark, and eerily quiet. You wondered if it was intentionally left a little dirty, with sticky spots of blood decorated crevices in the floor. A droid would have scrubbed the place immaculately clean, so the troopers must have been instructed to leave it a little unsettling.

Opening the door marked “2A,” you were greeted by a small observation room. One wall bowed into the room, primarily occupied by the curved glass of what you assumed was a two-way mirror. The observation room was sparsely furnished with a few chairs and a recording console. The adjoining room was similarly minimalistic, but with a notably taller ceiling, as if to make whoever was strapped to the table feel like they were at the bottom of a well, unable to crawl out and escape. Your tutor had yet to arrive, so you settled into one of the chairs, letting MH3 plug itself into the recording equipment. You had arrived only 5 minutes early, so when 15 minutes ticked by, you started to wonder if you had been forgotten. No, given his tone yesterday, his actions were intentional: he wanted you to know how unimportant this was to him. Well, the feeling was mutual.

Another ten minutes passed, leaving you to start counting floor tiles before the door swung open with much more force than necessary. _Great, he’s already in a shitty mood._ The air suddenly felt leaden, as if he was using his abilities to make his irritation palpable. If he was doing it for your benefit, it was unnecessary; the sharpness of his footfalls communicated his state of mind well enough. Those footfalls stopped sharply as he came in front of you, and you caught sight of his fists clenching as you dragged your gaze up to his mask.

“You aren’t dressed for training.” The vocal modifier only allowed the slightest hint of exasperation. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your face from betraying any amusement. He was correct—you were _not_ dressed for training, but that was intentional. To make sure your explorations that morning encouraged rumors with the right air of mystique, you had to make a particular choice of attire. Given your interactions with Commander Ren the day before, you decided that he would likely benefit from a fashion show as well.

You stood up, and in mock confusion, pretended to survey your offensive attire. Black leather riding boots covered black leather pants that rose high on your waist, trimming it in. They exposed your curves, but were relatively tame, at least compared to the blouse of black silk with full-length sleeves that were cinched at the wrist with leather buckles. The wrapping v-neckline was somewhat lower than modesty prescribed, with the small expanse of skin at the top of your breasts bared, but that wasn’t what distracted. No, it was how thin the fabric was, bordering on transparent. Had you not been wearing a simple black camisole beneath it, your figure certainly would have made wanton declarations to any watching eyes.  Continuing the farce, you bunched your eyebrows together. “My understanding is this would be a mental exercise.” Not waiting for an answer, you walked towards the door to the interrogation chamber and pushed the side door open. “Shall we?” you waved inward.

The knight ignored you and settled into one of the chairs in the observation room. You noted how straight and firm his posture was, a constant demonstration of how _large_ he was. Even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel eyes observing you behind the mask, already frustrated with the task presented to him. A silent, placating sigh seemed to pass through him and he pushed forward. “Before I train you to resist, you need to understand how the Force allows me to see into your mind.” He pointed to the chair you previously occupied. You were sick of sitting after waiting for him, but you relented and resettled. He leaned forward onto his knees. “What do you know of the Force?”

You had to bite back the urge to tell him all about your opinion on his self-righteous magic religion. Snoke would tolerate your obstinance, but this man likely would not. Instead, you saw an opportunity and leaned into it. “The Supreme Leader has taken the time to teach me a basic understanding so I can better appreciate his vision. He believes my intuition to be a slight sensitivity, but nothing that could be fostered to usefulness.” You reclined back into the chair, placing the weight of your torso on the armrest to communicate a nonchalant disinterest. “I know of its uses, some of its history, and even some of the ‘science’ behind it, if it can be appropriately called that. But most importantly, I know that the Supreme Leader fears it can be used against me, and considering _I_ keep his counsel and his secrets, he is concerned.” As you spoke the last statement, you focused on the slits of his visor, razor sharp. _Yes, I am important and you will respect me, you jumped-up peon, hiding behind a mask._ Kylo Ren wasn’t your superior officer, and you were going to make sure he knew it. You answered to the Supreme Leader. Full stop.

The masked man barely moved, likely trying to read for your sincerity. After a pause, he shifted, shoulders tensing. “Have you experienced the pain it can inflict?” The way the vocal modifier subtly cloaked the tone of his voice went from irritating to unsettling. You couldn’t quite tell if his words were meant as a threat.

“Master Snoke did use it to inflict pain during other interrogation training.” You didn’t mention how on a few occasions he had used it to discipline you, on the rare occasion you had overstepped your authority or made a mistake. Your most vivid memory of the pain, his recreational application, tried to bubble up, but you stuffed it back in place. Ren was trying to see if the pain would be a motivator or deterrent, and you weren’t planning on giving him the satisfaction of either. “Pain tolerance is something I’ve developed. It shouldn’t inhibit our training if you’re concerned.”

After a pause, he got up and moved towards the next room, pushing the door open and gesturing inside. Despite his harsh behavior, he held the door open for you. Either he had taken your words to heart, or perhaps he knew some manners. Your shoulders just barely missed brushing along his chest as you walked through the threshold, his massive figure occupying much of the space. As the door slid closed again, you walked over to the table at the center of the room. This was not your first advanced interrogation training, and hesitation never lessened the discomfort; it was better to just act accordingly and get it over with.

If he was surprised by your compliance, he didn’t voice it. Actually, he was rather quiet for someone with the reputation of being an intolerant, raging child. Once you had leaned back against the table, he started to secure the restraints on your arm. “That’s unnecessary, I’m sure,” you snapped as you tried to withdraw the limb. While yes, interrogation simulations normally involved being restrained, no one was there to make sure he didn’t get carried away. Being strapped down was a bad idea.

The black leather grip did not, however, release you, continuing to latch your wrist in place. _Shit, he is strong_. “This is all supposed to be in my head, right?”

“The restraints will keep you from hurting yourself,” he droned, disinterested, circling the table to bind your other arm. “Just because you think you can take it, doesn’t mean it isn’t going to hurt.” Your breath stilled as he pulled a leather strap across your neck. Two gloved digits reached under the strap, skimming across your windpipe and carotid, making sure you could breathe. The exercise was somewhat pointless: oxygen refused to come to you. _It’s just nerves_ , you assured yourself.

Finally, he stood back and crossed his arms, as if admiring his work. He could gut you open with that stupid laser sword and you would have no way to avoid it. Realistically, you probably wouldn’t be able to avoid it even if you weren’t strapped to a table, but at least you could have tried to duck. Actually, there were a number of actions he could take, a few you weren’t sure you would hate. A flush bit into your cheeks. _Where do these thoughts keep coming from?_

“The Supreme Leader said you have some sensitivity?” You nodded. “We’ll have to see if it does you any good. For now,” he began to circle again, leaving your bound line of sight, “I will try to train you as I have learned. You must focus on building a wall.”

“Yes, that is what I believe we are here for but thank you for the metaphor.” You tried to remain sarcastic, but the tone of your voice was stained with anxiety. “How will we be achieving this?”

The knight’s mask came back into sight, closer this time. “No, you must build a wall in your mind. To keep me out. That is how you resist the Force’s intrusion. Now, build your wall.”

You almost snorted. How in the stars were you supposed to build a wall around an abstract concept? What was this wall even supposed to look like? Was it supposed to be made of something specific? Without guidance, you thought of the stone walls of your childhood home, penning in the restless thoughts that occupied your headspace, like a herd of bordoks. “Okay?...”

“I’ll start off with simple questions. Tell me when you sense me.” His hand stretched out towards you, hovering just above your temple. “How old are you?”

The cobbled construction you had manifested evaporated, your thoughts occupied on the buzzing tendrils that seemed to blossom from where his fingers stopped. Without your willing it, a number manifested.

“Twenty-six? Given your temperament, I would have guessed younger.” You only glared in response. You had been impressed for a moment by how he had managed to pull something out of you, unbidden, but he had soured it. “Let’s see if you can actually try this time.”

You weren’t going to let him off so easy. Now that you knew it was coming, you wouldn’t be surprised by the impact, you could resist. The wall formed in your mind again, this time with thick bricks reaching high above the mind-bordoks. “What is your name?”

This time the wall didn’t simply evaporate but was swiftly blown apart by the tendrils, more painful than before, as your name slipped from the mask. “From the look on your face, you felt something, but considering how I felt no resistance, I can only assume the pain is from being forced to think, not because you are trying.” His tone dripped with contempt.

“Maybe give better instruction on what exactly it is I’m supposed to be doing?”

You caught a soft, dark chuckle. “No. I think instead I’ll ask you something you would rather keep a secret. I’ll give you a moment to decide if you want to put in any effort.” The only effort you felt like exerting was getting out of the restraints and smacking his mask so hard it spun like a top around his neck, _fucking asshole_. You should have known that Snoke’s apprentice would use the same method of teaching—sink or swim.

Again, you tried to conjure and corral the herd of thoughts, this time stuffing them into a stone room, hidden from the outside world. Maybe it would finally work. You waited.

“Have you lied to the Supreme Leader, Counselor?” Immediately, you focused on where you knew his intrusions would press into you, frantically trying to reinforce your mind. The feeling of his energy pressing against your defenses was excruciating, making you want to retch. For a moment, you thought you might hold him off, but your attention was futile. The tendrils popped through the stones in your imaginary safe room, incinerating your defenses and rooting into your thoughts. Memories of covert dealings were brought forward, burning and freezing at the same time. And then the intrusion stopped, leaving you gagging, eyes pricked with tears.

“I did nothing wrong.” your voice came out in cracks, the back of your throat burning with bile. It was true: you had lied, but you hadn’t disobeyed or acted against the Order. It was just a carefully guarded omission.

Your interrogator crossed his arms across his chest and was probably sporting a stupid, smug grin. “Do you think he will see it that way?” Definitely a smug grin.

“I just wanted a place of my own, away from all this. How I spend my money shouldn’t matter to him. To anyone.”

“But it matters enough for you to consider it a lie. Why? Because it is where you plan to go when you betray the Order?”

You didn’t even fight the buzzing intrusion this time, letting your mind answer as your lips did. “No! I just need a place to be alone. I would never betray the Order!”

It was a stupid thing to get caught for, you didn’t even think your master would care. But he would care that you considered it a lie. Time would only tell what consequences awaited you.

Kylo walked towards you again, and undid the restraints binding you to the table; first the neck, then the arms, followed by the legs. You collapsed, stomach still churning and cramping, and a migraine taking hold. MH3 had detached itself from the monitors and come tumbling in, furiously bringing out diagnostic instruments. “Your efforts are pathetic. It’s hard to see the point in even attempting to train you. Your ‘wall’ had the strength of wet paper.” He moved to the door, not sparing a glance to your huddled frame or indignant glare.

“Then tell the Supreme Leader so and save us both the trouble,” you hissed. You kind of wished he would.

He paused, gloved hand clenching again. _Does everything set him off?_  “No, I don’t think I will. We’ll continue this tomorrow.” He gestured, forcing the blast door open with his infuriating ability. “And wear something appropriate.” you watched him turn the corner, humiliation gluing you to the ground.

 

~~~

 

Training sessions continued in the same fashion for a week, if they could even be called ‘training.’ You would struggle to build some defense and he would bludgeon your mind for answers to questions ranging from simple to devastatingly intrusive. Sometimes he would ask questions you probably would have anticipated in the event you were captured—questions about specifications of the fleet or operations—but he seemed most interested, however, in questions regarding your relationship with Snoke, your loyalty. You couldn’t tell if Ren was simply jealous of your relationship, trying to determine a way to push you out of favor, or if he was honestly looking for disloyalty. He would find none. Death Before Dishonor.

Finally, you were able to escape his attention for a few days as he left for a purge mission. _A waste of resources_ , you thought, but at least it meant you didn’t have to go to bed with a raging headache. You hardly left your rooms while training, every drop of energy stolen from you. At the end of every session, he would mock you for failing to fight him off, and leave you feeling like you had just stumbled out of a speeder accident. His stupid religion was acceptable if it meant he left you alone. 

After taking a day to rest, you decided to seek out Phasma, hoping the metallic-clad captain would engage in some after-hours sparring. You were certainly going to get pummeled without mercy, but any activity that let you fight back was a welcome change of pace. At least that was your thought before meeting with the captain, who decided you had gone on too long without proper physical training and threatened to drag you out of bed in your skivvies if you failed to return in the morning for basic. One of the blessings of your position was that you only had to go through physical training once a standard Corsucant year, but even that evaded you now. You started to wonder if the ship itself was designed specifically to test your devotion to the Order.

“I swear, MH3, once I get out of this wretched place I am never coming back.” You groaned, slipping into the steaming bath, hoping the foaming epsom salts would reduce your stiffness enough that you would be able to walk the next day. MH3 had put together some pain relief oil in the water, just in case. A mechanical limb extended out of the droid’s main body and started to gently massage your scalp, chirping affirmations. You surveyed the new bruises forming on your thighs, blotched crimson and maroon. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” The droid gave an overly optimistic figure. “Unlikely, but a girl can dream.”

The sound of the blast door opening to your main room brought you bolt upright. Who could be there so late? “I’ll be there in a moment!” You scrambled to reach for the drain but stopped short when you heard footsteps heading for the open door to the refresher. Heavy footsteps. Footsteps that were back far too soon and were coming in far too quick.

You slipped back into the bubbles just as he walked through the archway to the refresher. If Kylo Ren was startled by his discovery, his helmet was the perfect disguise. The look on your face was hopefully just as effective. “Commander Ren, I hope you had an uneventful trip?” MH3 must have assumed your head coming level with the side of the tub was an invitation to start scrubbing your hair again. You tried to feign a relaxed posture, but holding your hands over your breasts and crossing your thighs. It was a miracle that you had elected for a foaming bath; you wouldn’t have been able to pretend you were comfortable being naked in front of him. “I trust you have a reason to disturb a lady while she is bathing?”

The Force user was absolutely still, arms stuck to his side. His long black robes were covered in dirt and something that looked suspiciously like blood. The way his chest labored slightly indicated he must have come straight from the command shuttle.  You wanted to pretend he wasn’t imagining what all the bubbles were hiding but the long pause he took before speaking did not lend itself to such a conclusion. “The door was open. I was unaware. The Supreme Leader told me to speak with you as soon as I returned.” Did his voice crack?

He was fixed like a tree for another unbearably long pause. You finally let out a fake cough, breaking the silence. “We will start back training tomorrow.” He turned and left as abruptly as he arrived.

When you were sure he was gone, you sunk back into the bubbles, felling a blush cover you from head to toe. “Well, that was weird.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, Chapter Two! I will normally post once or twice a week based on my current rate of writing. I like to have a three chapter buffer at all times, just in case I get hit with writer's block. You can let me know if that is cruel. We are getting into some serious burn over the next few chapters.
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos! Any comments, including criticism (I write legal opinions so I'm used to furious edits), are welcome!


	3. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t want to deescalate; you wanted to humiliate him. “I already knew this pointless vanity project was a waste of resources, but it’s going to be difficult for me to keep indulging the Supreme Leader if his apprentice is incapable of performing.” Emasculating him was probably risky, but it felt so very good.
> 
> Your body was thrust against the table, knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, your body had been unfurled across the surface and Ren was roughly snapping the restraints on your arms and legs into place. “You understand nothing!”
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Let's take a glimpse inside the filthy mind of our favorite emo space prince before he and RC make some very unwise choices.

 

            _Foam. Froth. Bubbles._

_He stood in his own refresher, the shower trying to wash away all of the grime that had caked on over the mission. Kylo had lathered up but didn’t bother trying to rinse, instead letting the suds slowly dissolve, as he stood there, thinking._

_Bubbles. He couldn’t stop thinking about bubbles. More accurately, he couldn’t stop thinking about what was underneath those bubbles. Millions of pockets of air encased in soapy water, hiding something he had desperately been trying not to consider: his master’s pretty little protégé._

_Wet hair, slicked back. Eyes full of amusement. Soft lips, slightly parted. Droplets of water and sweat accumulating like dew across smooth skin. The tops of her breasts floating at the surface. Everything else just below a blockade of bubbles. Something hidden, forbidden, but easily discovered if he simply moved his hands, pushed the bubbles aside. He could find out if her lips were the same color as her nipples, how soft the skin of her stomach was, how the folds of her cunt came together between her thighs. He wanted nothing more than to drag her out of the tub and trap her wet body on the floor beneath him, so he could feel how tight and wet she was, so he could hear that infuriating mouth plead for him to go deeper, harder, faster, until he came in her sweet pussy. It still surprised him that he hadn’t._

_Why had his master sent him there with such urgency? Did he intend for Kylo to stumble in on her? Was it to toy with him? To tempt him? To challenge him? What had been expected of him?_

_He looked down and groaned in frustration at how hard his fantasy had made him. He would find out sooner or later what his master wanted, but it didn’t matter at the moment. He gripped himself and thought about bubbles._

~~~

 

            Captain Phasma had insisted on going to the practice range after morning physical training. The woman seemed concerned your diminished endurance extended your other skills. What Phasma didn’t remember was that one of the requisite skill sets for purchasing firearms was knowledge of their use.

            “At least you are adequate with a blaster, Counselor.” You walked side by side towards the officer’s mess. Phasma would never be seen by her troopers without her helmet if she could help it, so meals were always in the privacy of other officers. The food was always better there anyway, not that protein slop was a high bar.

            “I believe I deserve more praise than ‘adequate,’ Captain. Give me this at least.” You beamed up at the chrome helmet. You were genuinely pleased with yourself. Almost all of your shots had hit their mark, outgunning several of the troopers on the range. While no, you weren’t trying to shoot with a bulky helmet obscuring your view down the iron sight, it still felt good to succeed in some manner, for once.

            The statuesque officer let out what could have been described as a snicker. “Fine. You are good, but you still have a ways to go, Counselor.” You responded with a delighted chuckle. Any Stormtroopers who were watching probably assumed that they were experiencing hallucinations as the softest laugh from the captain joined in. More gossip to build you up as a myth. “I am surprised you are joining me today, Counselor. Electing to stay in your training garments this long must be a record. Absolutely shocking.”

            You loved how Captain Phasma always referred to you with an honorific, instead of your designation. It wasn’t your name, but it made you feel respected and valued, seen. “Yes, well, Commander Ren has returned from his expedition, so our ‘training’ will resume today. No point in changing.” You looked down at your training garb: the same skin-tight black pants and long-sleeved shirt as the troopers, but instead of white plate armor, you opted for a long white cowl to match the white Stormtrooper boots you had secretly snagged from the commissary. You had to differentiate yourself some way, and the cowl kept you warm.

            Lunch was quick, but you enjoyed the few minutes you had with the unmasked Chrome Crusader. Hux never made an appearance, although the Lieutenant Mitaka did come to check on whether your accommodations were acceptable. The meal was over sooner than you would have liked, and MH3 chirped that your session with the Commander was imminent. The two of you parted ways, with threats that if you didn’t show up to training the next morning, you might wake up to cold, unpleasant circumstances.

            The walk from the officer’s mess to the brig spanned most of the ship, and you were unwittingly a few minutes late. The door was open and Kylo Ren was already in the room, pacing. It seemed that he was never in a good mood.

            Not bothering to announce yourself, you moved past him towards the main interrogation chamber. “I apologize, Commander, I just left a late lunch with Captain Phasma.” You touched a hand to the blast door, but as it started to lift, it stilled on its tracks. Looking over your shoulder, you saw that Ren had stopped pacing and his hand was stretched out to the door.

            “You assume the Captain’s time is more important than mine, Counselor?” His words came out slow and deliberate, matching the steps he took towards you.

Without thinking, you crossed your arms in front of your chest defensively _._ “Well, you like to constantly remind me that this is a waste of time for both of us, so I assumed you wouldn’t mind if I wasted it in absentia for a few minutes.” _That’s right, stand your ground._

            He was an arms-length away, towering over you, forcing you to lift your chin to look up. You hated how you couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t hear the subtle modulations in his tone as he spoke. Negotiations without information were ineffective at best, and fatal at worst. “It seems you put little effort into anything but excuses.” The tension in the distance between you could be weighed and measured; it pressed down on your lungs, forced you to swallow. 

            “Unless you are going to tell me how I can make amends, I suggest we move along.” Your voice had an almost syrupy quality when came out, to your surprise. You realized you were thinking about _how_ you would make amends. Given his behavior the night before, you wondered how he liked his apologies. On your knees, perhaps? _No! Don’t think like that,_ you chastised yourself, fighting off a blush. You were really starting to worry about the suicidal inclination to climb him like a tree that kept wriggling into your thoughts. You needed to look into finding a strapping trooper to take to bed, the sooner the better.

            A familiar buzz bloomed inside your head—he was trying to read your thoughts. The revelation doused cold water on your licentious thoughts better than your own sense of self-restraint. You tried to focus in on all of your frustration with him. “Starting the lesson so soon, Commander? Don’t you need to restrain me first?”

            Both the tendrils in your mind and his outstretched arm jerked back like he had touched burning coals. The blast door groaned open, finally free from the knight’s restraint. No longer trapped, you headed to the table, ready to get the awful mess over and done with. You ripped the cowl over your head and tossed it on one of the tables. Ren paused for a moment, and then followed suit. “I’m surprised you can actually sense me. And here I thought you were a lost cause.”

            You leaned against the table but didn’t reach out for the restraints. “I am actually attempting to learn your stupid magic techniques.” Your mouth curled with derision. “I think the only lost cause is your attempt at teaching.”

            Those telltale fists started to clench and unclench again, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He had been nothing but disrespectful to you since your arrival, he did nothing but humiliate you, and your training only reminded you how the scales were catastrophically tipped in his favor. You didn’t want to deescalate; you wanted to humiliate him. “I already knew this pointless vanity project was a waste of resources, but it’s going to be difficult for me to keep indulging the Supreme Leader if his apprentice is _incapable_ of _performing_.” Emasculating him was probably risky, but it felt so very good.

            Your body was thrust against the table, knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, your body had been unfurled across the surface and Ren was roughly snapping the restraints on your arms and legs into place. “You understand nothing!” It seemed like he was putting every restraint and strap to work, something he had never done before.

            “I understand that what we should be doing is trying to gather Centerists support and placing garrisons along the outer rim, but instead we are putting excessive amounts of credits into intelligence about a religious fanatic and outfitting you and a _whole team_ to take out one low-priority target at a time.” You hissed as he secured a strap around your hips, bringing his own deviously close.

            “To question me is to question the Supreme Leader.” He brought the communicator of his helmet close to your ear as he secured your neck, the sound coming out at a whisper. “I think I should remind you what the Force is capable of.” When he stepped back you found that you could hardly struggle against the binds, his fury evident in the constricted flow of blood to your limbs. “Let’s start with some easy questions. Build your wall.”

            “Again, your teaching is breathtakingly useless, Commander—” Your own sharp intake of air cut you off as the restraints seemed to bite further into your skin. You might have laughed at the irony of it all had it not come in such a precarious situation.

            “Your incompetence isn’t my fault. Where is the Supremacy located?”

            It didn’t matter what ‘wall’ you imagined or how hard you focused on it. Your mind became a searing inferno as you tried to close off your thoughts. The pain rivaled the agony Snoke had brought down upon you during your early training. The difference was your master’s attentions were precise and deep, whereas Ren’s were unrestrained and raw.

            “Those coordinates are in the Unknown Territories, Counselor. They are also out of date.” You could barely hear him as the pain briefly subsided. It was hard to imagine resisting if he was going to continue with such ferocity.  “What senators are providing assistance to the First Order?”

Whether it was instinct, habit, or pride that made you fight back, the tentacles of the Force ripped into you regardless. You were certain that your heart physically stopped pumping blood at some point. “You know so many useless political worms, Counselor, I hardly recognize them. Well, Ormes Apolis, of course—but Korrel? That is a surprise.” Maker, you wanted to cry.

After a while, you didn’t even hear the questions he asked or the answers he repeated back as he pried them from your mind. Every time he took an answer from you, it made your stomach lurch, your vision spin. Your mind was being pulled along the plate of a grater, coming off in ribbons. Only your stubborn pride kept you from screaming.

            Eventually, your body could no longer tolerate the invasion, and you retched, the remnants of your lunch with the Captain spilling down your chest and onto the floor. The mess must have disgusted him, or given him the satisfaction he was looking for because the probing tendrils receded. Even though the white-hot pain subsided, you felt concussed, head throbbing and spinning at the same time.

            “It seems the ‘stupid magic techniques’ are more than you can handle, Counselor.” He undid the binds without touching you, dropping you to the floor to land in your own filth. Black boots were all that you could see as you tried to orient yourself with the floor, vertigo besieging you. The sound of frantic tapping against the blast door was muddled like you were underwater. MH3 was likely scrambling to get into the room, but Ren must have been holding the door closed again. “Pathetic, as usual. Maybe skip lunch tomorrow.” With his final dig, he turned and strutted out the blast door, not sparing you a second look.

            Sitting in your own vomit was horrifyingly humiliating, but you could hardly move, even when the droid finally made it into the room with water. You sipped, trying to keep straight which direction was up. Once the room stopped moving, you gathered yourself up, legs buckling underneath you like a newborn fathier. Adrenaline carried you out of the interrogation room and up towards the officer’s wing. MH3 chirped at you to stop, to let it check your vitals and administer aid, but you paid it no mind. The only acceptable refuge now was your own chambers, and you weren’t stopping until you got there, no matter how unsure your steps were.

            When you finally made it to your rooms, you let yourself vomit again. And again. Until you were certain there was nothing but a vacuum of empty space where your stomach had been. Lying prone beside the toilet, you peeled off your sweat and vomit-coated clothes, throwing them into the cleaning bin. The cool comfort of the metal floor was so seductive, you wanted to just melt into it, but you eventually couldn’t stand your rotting scent, and rolled yourself into the shower, where you promptly sat on the floor again, too exhausted to stand. Hot water cascaded down your slumped body, massaging the top of your skull. You were resolved to stay in that spot until the entire star destroyer ran out of hot water, but MH3 caught your attention. It seemed to manifest uncharacteristic apprehension, shifting from standing watch out in the main chamber, to pacing the counter of the refresher, then spinning in circles directly outside the glass shower door.

            You finally acknowledged the droid with a sigh. “If you want to help, set up a meeting with the Supreme Leader as soon as possible. I need his guidance.” You faced the stream of water again and let your eyelids close.

 

~~~

 

            Thankfully, MH3 did not let you drown yourself in the shower, forcing you out as you started to drift from consciousness. Shortly after you had dried off and collapsed into bed, the droid informed you that the Supreme Leader would meet you at the holo-deck later that evening. Such a quick response was uncharacteristic. Instead of tucking into sleep for the next eternity, you prepared to meet your master, refusing to appear before him as anything less than splendid.

            Pain relievers provided by the droid helped with the headache, but you had to focus on not keeling over as you walked to the holodeck. Most of the officers who were not on shift were likely in the mess, so the atrium outside of the holo-deck was empty when you arrived. No one would know about your meeting unless they were looking for you. _Good._ The heavy doors to the dark room opened just wide enough for you to slip in, then slammed shut behind you. You always wondered why the waste of space for a simple holo-deck, especially when holographic communication transponders were wired throughout the ship, but the sheer size of the room physically hurt your economic sensibilities. Snoke always wanted to have an impact when he was speaking, but the room was excessive. If only there were another purpose for a giant dark room that was empty most hours of the day.

            You waited for a few minutes before the deck was hailed, and the holo-com stirred to life. The rendering of the Supreme Leader was massive, at least twice his already towering size. It gave the impression that he was an omniscient god, all seeing, all knowing, and all controlling. Which, admittedly, was accurate in some ways.

            “Hello, Little Bird. You’re looking a little worse for wear.” The gravel of his voice uttering your pet name made your heart rate spike. Like any human, you were diminutive in size beside Snoke, but he always said the endearment was a reference to “all the sweet tunes you sing for our guests, Little Bird.” It was unsurprising your ill health was apparent to him, despite your preening: he was probably observing you from across the galaxy through the Force with the same clarity he had watching you through the comm-link.

            “Apologies, Master. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.” You bowed low, one knee planted to the floor in reverence. No matter how much favor you had, it was inappropriate to ask for a meeting with the Supreme Leader. Almost every time you met with him, it was at his request and leisure. Asking for a meeting was an invitation for his wrath, and there was no closing that door. Every word you uttered would have to be measured and considered, a sparring match between Master and Apprentice.

            He chuckled. “I was pleased to hear from you. I thought my favorite counselor had forgotten me.” His usual smirk was set in place as you rose to your feet, meeting his gaze. “What troubles you? Is the _Finalizer_ not to your taste?”

            You shook your head. “Not at all, Supreme Leader. Our flagship has perfectly palatable accommodations.”

            “No need to lie to me, girl. I know you hate being stuck in space.” A thin hand stroked his malformed face as his eyes skewered into you through the digital abyss. “Tell me why you called for me.”

            Hesitation was not welcome in front of the Supreme Leader, but you weren’t sure how to breach the subject of his apprentice. Snoke had made it clear that he favored you above many, but Kylo Ren was a blind spot. Your master had always spent a great deal of time with the Force user, but he never told you much about their work. The understanding was that each of you saw to Snoke’s vision in a separate dimension, never overlapping. You didn’t want to speak ill of the Force user and create more problems.

            “I need your guidance, as always, Master. I have been having difficulty in my training with Commander Ren.”

            “Ah, yes, my young apprentice mentioned that there had been little progress. I told him he was expecting too much of your work.” His comment cut deep. You couldn’t tell if his assessment was generous or critical, and there was no way to sense it from the tone of your enigmatic leader.

            Your hands gripped your biceps as you crossed your arms, too embarrassed to continue looking at his face. “I don’t totally understand what he asks of me. He says to ‘build a wall’ around my mind, but I cannot for the life of me figure it out.”

            There was a pause that did nothing for your nerves. Finally, he chuckled. “You are going about this the wrong way my child. You will never be able to build a wall that keeps him out.”

            “Master, I don’t want to fail you! I am certain given time—”

            “No, girl. You will never be able to overpower him.” His tone was dark as he cut you off. “Kylo Ren is unmatched in strength. Attempting to keep him out by force will only end in pathetic failure.” You flinched. “But that is not the only way to keep him out. Have you learned nothing over the years, girl?” You finally dared to look up at him, seeing a delighted sneer snake across his face. “You will win using the skills I have taught you: manipulation and deceit.”

            “That will keep him out?”

            “Oh, Little Bird,” he cooed, “you will do more than keep him out. You will force your way in.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wasn't going to, but you all just deserved a tasty morsel of smut for being so patient. Nothing too indulgent, but hopefully enough to whet your appetite for what comes next. 
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter, but Chapter 4 is just shy of 7K words so I hope you forgive me. I'll be on vacation this weekend so I won't have as much time to write, but I promise the next chapter is worth it. See you in a few days!


	4. The Lying Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The helmet quickly fixed its visor on you, and Ren’s hulking form quaked. “My failure?! You want to blame me for your incompetence and stupidity?!” A hand shot out, and then another, invisible hand sprung forth from it, gripping around your neck, lifting you into the air. “Here I was, feeling sorry for you, but you’re just some spoiled brat who can’t accept there is something she can’t do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all of you weirdos who love Armitage Hux.

             The Supreme Leader had admonished you from trying to strong-arm your way out of Ren’s clutches, but his strategic insights had not been very clear. Perhaps you had been approaching the problem from the wrong angle, thinking that somehow mind reading wasn’t vulnerable to the same tactics as ordinary interrogation.

            You laid sleepless in bed, eyes fixed on the grates in the ceiling, remembering the first lessons you had been subjected to by Snoke. It was early in your tutelage, back when you thought that the Supreme Leader was only interested in your negotiation strategies and how well you wrote contract terms. Before meeting him, you had studied war, law, economics, and policy extensively, but he vastly expanded your knowledge by throwing you into every task he could. Once you had sufficiently proven your worth, your skill, he decided that you would be given real power and authority, and thus real knowledge of the First Order’s operations. With such knowledge, you would have to learn how to protect it.

            Torture, you found out, was not for the faint of heart. When you were hesitant, your master had assured you that he would never let his agents cause you any permanent damage and that he would be present during all of your lessons. He made good on those assurances. At first, he only allowed them to bruise and shock you, but it was quickly apparent you would never give in to something so tame. He had to escalate.

            Your first true exposure to the Force was how he used it to simulate pain in lieu of the tools the agents normally used. With his hold on your mind, he made you experience broken bones, drowning, and beatings, you would scream and cry, but you didn’t talk. When you had worked your way up to it, he made you feel the edge of an imaginary flaying knife, skinning your stomachs and arms. It had been horrific, and the memories of it sometimes still woke you up in sweats and chills, but you never gave in. His final test had been an entirely different monstrosity. The memory of Snoke purring to you how impressed he was as he subjected you to inhumane violations tried to surface, but you quickly pushed them to the back of your mind.

            Once he knew you could take the pain, he taught you how to stay alive. Torture was more a tool of subjugation rather than obtaining information because its reliability was so suspect. People would say anything to get out of it. “I have taught you pain to protect your loyalty, your obedience to me, Little Bird. You will protect your knowledge by other means.” Maybe that was why your pain tolerance did nothing to protect you from Ren’s intrusions.

            Other means had been lies. How to provide false information in a way that was believable. Perfecting the look of desperation and hope, so an enemy thought they had triumphed. It was applicable to any form of interrogation, even without torture. As you felt the hours before the first shift creep by, you steeled yourself with confidence. You could lie circles around that self-righteous little shit.

 

~~~

 

            “You do realize, Counselor, the only reason someone dares to waste my time with enemy interrogation is to have me sort the truth from lies?”

            Your head hung limply over the neck strap. _Well, that plan failed miserably._ You had given everything you had into projecting false answers when you felt those tentacles snake in at your temple. Ren had indulged you only a moment before ripping through your skull and revealing that lies were, honestly, just another attempt to conceal. Just another wall he blew to smithereens without breaking a sweat. You fucking hated him.

            “As we have previously established, Commander Ren,” you spit out a stray string of bile you had failed to keep down, “I know fuck all about why you are here or what it is you do.” You wanted to rationalize that you were simply worn out by the previous day’s session, but it did you no favors to ignore how completely pathetic your strategy had unfolded. Snoke had told you to use deceit and manipulation, to use what you had been taught. Well, you had applied those lessons and they had dramatically failed. Perhaps the real lesson he had intended for you was that you accept defeat and throw yourself out of an airlock because you were never getting off the kriffing _Finalizer_.

            The knight began unbinding your neck and arms, manually unlocking every clamp. It almost struck you as gentle, the way he bent down and slowly pulled your leg out, a silent apology for his mistreatment. You could also have just been delusional because he had just used his mind to make you feel like your intestines were collapsing in on themselves. Anything would feel gentle after that.

            He must have caught himself adjusting your pant leg into your boots because he hurried through the remaining binds. “Supposedly, I am teaching you how to resist the Force, but it is becoming painfully obvious that is not going to happen.” Normally, he rushed out of your sessions, leaving you on the floor with a ruthless quip, usually drenched in sweat and/or vomit. Instead, he lingered as you rubbed your aching wrists, MH3 running a scanner over you. “You can clearly sense me, but you don’t have a means to effectively block me.” His voice was even, almost empathetic. Somehow his sympathy was almost more defeating than his cruelty. “Perhaps this truly is a waste of time.”

            The reality of his words stung. You had been sent by your master to train, given an opportunity to surpass your rival, and you had failed. You set your jaw, avoiding eye contact with the man. “Well, I can’t say you’ve even bothered attempting to teach me how to block, so I don’t know why you’re so surprised. I’ve been telling you I don’t understand what you mean.” The sound of a plea almost found its way into your voice. It truly was pathetic, and that made you even angrier. “Training is supposed to be difficult, yes, but that doesn’t excuse you from your own failure.”

            The helmet quickly fixed its visor on you, and Ren’s hulking form quaked. “ _My_ failure?! You want to blame me for your incompetence and stupidity?!” A hand shot out, and then another, invisible hand sprung forth from it, gripping around your neck, lifting you into the air. “Here I was, feeling sorry for you, but you’re just some spoiled brat who can’t accept there is something she can’t do.” You sputtered, clawing at nothing along your neck for a moment, before he released you. It took every fiber of muscle and ligament in your body to keep your knees from buckling to the floor. For once, you wanted to be standing when he left.

            “We won’t train tomorrow. Perhaps if I give you a day off you will find the time to tell the Supreme Leader you have failed, and spare us both the walk down here.” It was then that he made his customary exit, this time fuming. You watched his black robes disappear around the corner before taking a moment to lean against the interrogation table. _Just one time, I want to leave before him._

 

~~~ 

 

            _There was no question in Kylo’s mind that she was loyal. Admirably so. He could feel the desperation she had to prove herself to Snoke, to make him proud. It was almost childlike. He had told his master just as much, confirming that even as she resisted him, disrespected him, she was obedient to the Supreme Leader’s will. The Order’s success drove her more than even her own ambitions, which was uncommon. But it was obvious that she was never going to be able to resist him. No one would be able to._

_But he was told to continue, to see if she could finally resist, to find out if her devotion to their cause was truly fathomless. His master would not explain why, only stating that their work was the key to something essential. It was driving him mad._

_Kylo considered himself above the distractions of other men. He was better than others._ He _was meant to rule the galaxy. He knew passion could bring him strength, but it had always been on his terms, under his control. Nothing felt under control since she collided into him in that corridor. Since she looked up at him with those bright eyes._

_Every session, he would have to watch her strain against her bonds, pulling taut against the curves of her body, but never diminishing the fire in her eyes. He had to fight his every devious impulse as he secured her. He wanted to feel that soft, poreless skin against his own, expose her flesh and brand it with his teeth. It would be so easy to pull the waistband of her pants down to her knees while she was retrained, helpless to stop his cock from slipping in between her folds, thrusting into her tight cunt. Nothing to stop him from wrapping his hands and then his mouth around her tits, from stroking her clit until she came around him. Those angry pouting lips of hers always seemed to be primed with a clever comeback, when instead they should be moaning his name. He wanted to make her shudder and gasp from pleasure, not pain. Wanted to show her the man he was. Show her that he man she needed._

_By the third week of her time on the_ Finalizer _, he was concerned he had fisted himself raw. It was getting to the point that jerking himself once a day wasn’t enough. More than once after their training, he had to rush to the safety of a maintenance or storage closet to relieve himself of a raging hard-on. She haunted his sleep, waking him in the night with spilt seed and unfulfilled desires. If only she didn’t keep reminding him how infuriating and contrary she was, he would have been on his knees, giving her the reverence her very presence demanded. He almost did, adjusting her skin-tight training pants so the seams didn’t bother those perfect thighs. There was no telling how long he could last._

_Either she would successfully resist him, or he would remove the possibility._

 

~~~ 

 

            If Ren thought he had defeated you, he had another thing coming. Operation Lie Your Ass Off had been unsuccessful, but you were _not_ going to give in. The Supreme Leader had given you a task, and stars, you were going to do it.

            That night, you had skipped your usual soak and whine for a study of your old journals. When the Supreme Leader had first taken you under his wing, he had encouraged you to write about what you had learned. He was a man of research and study, underneath all the power and ambition, and his instruction had required you to take notes on occasion. It had been like your days at the Academy, but instead of taking your studies in large lecture halls or ancient buildings, you had kneeled obediently at his throne for months, watching his interactions with officers and diplomats. He wanted you to watch him control the people around him, how he read their intentions and twisted their actions. You had lapped up the knowledge and recorded his wisdom with absolute discipleship.

            Pouring over your old notes, you realized your mistake. It hadn’t been about deceit, it was about manipulation. Snoke wanted you to _manipulate_ Ren.

            When he told you to force your way in, he was instructing you to learn about your opponent: the first step, not the last step. If you wanted to keep Ren out, you would have to make a preemptive strike, move the battle to an arena of your own choosing, before he could even start to worm his way into your mind.

            The problem was that you didn’t know nearly enough about the Force user. It wasn’t like you were having congenial chats over lunch, or braiding each other’s hair while you gossiped about the Supreme Leader after your sessions. Your problem didn’t stop there, either. As Snoke’s confidante, you had some of the highest clearance in the First Order, giving you access to numerous personal files. You even had access to Kylo Ren’s. But it had been blank. Every other officer had a record you could read and analyze, but Ren was an absolute mystery. Somehow, he had been an apprentice to the Supreme Leader for ten years and even his medical records were mostly redacted. Without some sort of lead, some sort of weakness, you couldn’t make a real strategy. It was a dead-end.

            Perhaps it was for the best. For all of his abhorrent behavior, you felt guilty at the thought of manipulating him. You had been hesitant to speak with the Supreme Leader because you feared how he would respond when he discovered you had lied. To your surprise, he never brought it up. _Ren hadn’t told him_. There was no logical explanation for the act of kindness. And you were going to repay him by finding out how to hurt him in the most vicious way? You forced yourself to shrug off your ill-timed consciousness. You would succeed at any cost.

            You would have to find some other way to learn about the knight before your next training. You weren’t going to be able to leave the ship, or hire one of your usual contacts to look for information, lacking time and freedom. The only way you were going to get the upper hand was if you spoke to someone who interacted with him on the ship. Someone who had authority. Someone who wouldn’t be afraid to assist you in digging up Ren’s vulnerabilities.

 

~~~

 

            The man who opened the door was not the man you expected, at least, not the man you usually recognized.

            Hux had abandoned his massive overcoat, waistcoat, and oversized belt, greeting you in just his white dress shirt tucked into his usual jodhpurs and perfectly shined boots. The cuffs of his shirt were folded to his elbows, revealing freckled pale skin. You had anticipated his usual adherence to formalities when you chose your outfit, and you weren’t prepared for a more relaxed version of the galaxy’s fussiest officer. You hesitated to pass the threshold, acutely aware of how overdressed you were.

            “This is a pleasant surprise, Counselor. I had assumed you would want to dine informally.”

            “And I did not imagine you slept in anything less than your dress uniform, General, so consider us both surprised.” You were trained to consider a level of dress as a signaler, not just for power, but also intention. The more casual a party dressed, the more vulnerable or accommodating they could be. Unless the character was making a deliberate power-play, but that was usually less a matter of formality and more a statement made by a sheer lack of clothing. The General’s outfit was a statement of alliance, a willingness to cooperate.

            Sensing your hesitation, he gestured you into the room. As you moved past him, you could hear the slight catch to his breathing. Your dinner gown was your own declaration, and it _was_ a power-play. At first glance it was a simple floor length sheath gown made of marsala colored velvet, with a high neck and long sleeves, but the back was completely open, a cowl neckline draping to just above your hips. Absolute vulnerability, but only if you wanted to expose it to him.

            “As daring as always, RC. I am starting to wonder how you smuggled such an impressive wardrobe onto my ship.” The blast door closed but he remained behind you, undoubtedly drinking in every ridge of your spine. Now, you couldn’t have that, not when he had hardly offered you anything in return.

            Denying him further inspection, you turned and gave him a knowing smirk. “Well, my position doesn’t come with a dashing uniform. I have to make due.” You brushed the velvet fabric down your sides, pulling it taut enough to show the outline of your belly and hip bone, suggesting the dangerous absence of undergarments. “I can change if that would make you more comfortable?”

            The slightest blush burned on his ears. The Supreme Leader had always mocked the general’s inability to conceal his reactions when you discussed him, noting the enjoyment he derived from making the General squirm, particularly in front of troops. You had to admit, you enjoyed it too. After weeks of being forced to interact with blank faces and helmets, it was fun to play with someone you could read.

            “Dinner is already prepared, so we shouldn’t let it cool. No need to worry about my comfort.” He was trying so hard to stay in control; it was almost adorable. Such a deviation from the snide man you fantasized about strangling.

            “Of course, General.”

            The two of you moved out of the entryway and further into his suite. Commanding officers always had substantially better quarters, but the best quarters on the flagship were extensive. Unlike your suite, which only contained a main studio and a refresher, she counted multiple in-suite accommodations, and as a center-piece, a massive window on the opposite wall, exposing the vast reaches of space. You didn’t even have a window. You walked through an archway to where a small dining table was set, prepared with the best meal you had seen since Spira, possibly before then. He pulled your chair out before taking his own.

            “So… what prompted the cessation of hostilities, Counselor?” He poured you each a glass of some type of red wine before wordlessly toasting. “It is no secret that we are not on the best of terms.”

            You tasted the red, happy with the balance of dried fruit and sharp tannins. Looking over the rim of the glass you raised an eyebrow; a cheeky, silent suggestion of ‘ _oh whatever are you talking about?’_ “I’ve been on this ship long enough to understand that you’re a useful friend, General. Phasma considers you an ally, and I trust her judgment.”

            “I’ll have to thank her.”

            You delicately tucked into the plate of the leafy greens in front of you, savoring some of the first raw, fresh vegetation you had in ages. Dried meat and preserved foods were plentiful out in space, but not a crisp fruit or stalk of green. Too long between ports to keep fresh. You complimented him on the meal, and exchanged the usual round of small talk. It was the necessary song and dance of a new alliance, exchanging questions about history you clearly both had studied beforehand, the only new information concerning subjects such as his preference of certain music or your favorite lakes on Naboo. He wasn’t a natural negotiator, but any military commander worth their stripes knew to investigate an enemy before an engagement. Any surprises about your family or academic background were rehearsed, as were your’s.

            “Your brother is a pilot in the New Republic Army, yes? That must be a difficult relationship.”

            “I try to be proud of his success, even if we are on opposing sides.”

            “How considerate of you.”

            “I respect any soldier who has earned their rank, General, despite what you may think of me.”

            He stilled, and you watched his jaw tense, chewing on your words, trying to determine if they were a thinly veiled insult or not. “Is there anyone in a uniform you don’t respect.” He took the bait.

            You leaned away from the table, swirling the wine in your glass to watch it grip the sides. It was a good vintage. “If you are concerned that I don’t believe you earned your rank, General, don’t be. We may not get along, but I can acknowledge that you achieved your rank through service.” You flashed your canines in a wicked smile, “And perhaps your ruthlessness.”

            Hux seemed pleased with the response, but he could tell you needed him to inquire further. “But not everyone on the _Finalizer_ ,” he phrased it as more of a statement than a question. He mimicked your relaxed posture, pushing away from the table slightly to cross one leg over the other. You couldn’t deny that he was a handsome man, with long limbs and strong bone structure. He clearly kept his sideburns long and his hair sharply coifed to distract from the boyish softness of his eyes and lips. You wondered if he could be coaxed into growing a beard. If only he wasn’t such an incorrigible ass all the time.

            “No, I can’t say that every officer on this ship deserves my respect.”

            “Ren has finally done something to cross the line with you? Your tolerance and temperament are famous even among the High Command, so he must have truly offended.”

            “Even my patience wears thin at time, as I am sure you are aware.” You thought back to the first day on the ship. In hindsight, that hadn’t been an exchange prompted by hatred, but an exercise in dominance. You had been squaring up before, but now there was an understanding of a common enemy.

            “I’m not surprised. He is detestably short-sighted and prone to mistake.”

            The General’s gaze had not escaped your notice. He was still trying to read your intentions. “Oh? The Supreme Leader speaks of him with such fondness.”

            “The Supreme Leader is only interested in Ren’s ability, but he leaves me in command because he knows that Ren isn’t suited for strategy. A real leader has to command respect and admiration from his troops, not just fear.”

            “Thus your daily chats with the forces.”

            “Don’t tease, Counselor. You know they serve a purpose. And yes, they do help instill my troops with a sense of loyalty. My officers don’t cower away from me when I enter a room. They look to my command. An inferior man is entirely dependent on fear.” You had heard that statement from Snoke before. ‘ _The Empire was weak because it relied too much on fear. We won’t crumble to such vulnerability like the Sith-led Empire. We will have true loyalty, true devotion._ ’

            “But not Ren. I very rarely see him outside of training. What is he like?”

            “He sequesters himself often. He sometimes comes to the bridge for operations, but he is more often attempting to leave the ship to join his knights, or holed up in his room meditating. And when he does roam the ship he tends to break it.” His hatred of the other man was potable, intense as he spoke. There was definitely more information to get from the man.

            “He can’t be all anger and tantrums, can he, General? Otherwise, I think you would have asked Phasma to manufacture some accident by now.” You voice was sweet like honey, letting him know you suspected the nature of his father’s untimely demise, but you didn’t disapprove.

            Hux laughed, but it wasn’t gentle or friendly. “I have certainly thought about it. The problem is the bastard doesn’t trust anyone enough to get close. He seems to suspect everyone around him, and keeps track of everyone. It’s almost creepy how he knows the name of every officer and troop designation number.”

 _Probably just reading their mind_ s, you considered. “Paranoia. Is it because he acts against the Supreme Leader’s wishes?”

            “No, he listens to the Supreme Leader. But otherwise… He is a rancor, without direction. He single-handedly runs us over budget, destroying the training facilities and sending soldiers to the medical bay. I sometimes wonder if it makes more sense to let him charge on the front lines or keep him impounded here, as the costs seem to run the same.”

            The redhead's complaints were starting to get repetitive. You needed to figure out if there was something beyond the rage, not just _more rage_. “Does he use our resources any other way? Anything out of the ordinary?”

            The general didn’t answer, instead shooting you an indescribable look from across the table. _Shit._ You had been too eager, too specific with that last question, and given away your intentions.

            He finally turned his gaze away from yours, patting his napkin at the corner of his mouth, as if some invisible crumb needed to be brushed away.  “You know, if you had wanted information about Ren, you could have simply requested a file.” Biting cold emanated from his pale blue eyes, but not the kind that sprung from hatred; it was offence.

            You ignored it. “You and I both know that isn’t true, General.”

            Hux leaned onto the arm of his chair, resting his chin on his closed fist, his mouth fighting a smirk. “No, probably not.” You had seen the expression he made in many negotiations before: reconsidering his objective. It was the face an adversary wore before proposing a number, the losing move in any negotiation. “Still, it isn’t polite to ask about another man at dinner, Counselor. I’m sure you’re aware of that much.”

            His comment surprised you, which in and of itself was a surprise. You had always assumed that Hux’s rare suggestive comments were power plays, not real interest, and he wouldn’t be bothered by your inquiry but for the fact that you were clearly using him for information. The umbrage on his features said something different, however. “I didn’t realize my intentions would bother you. Isn’t the saying ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’” You took a drink, sitting up straight in your chair. “And I’m not nearly pliant enough for your tastes.”

            He hummed. “You may be right about that, Counselor, but any man hates when he is denied attention in favor of an inferior.” Inferior. It was a competition for Hux. He didn’t want Ren to have something he couldn’t. Pushing his chair back, he moved away from the table towards the wet bar. He picked out a crystal bottle filled with a warm brown liquid, and two glasses. He looked over his shoulder at you, “Alderaan Whiskey? I acquired some a few years back. It’s roughly 50 years old by now.”

            You nodded, recognizing the meal had clearly concluded. “How could I turn down a taste of a planet that no longer exists.” He laughed at your comment. Despite your ulterior motives, it seemed that he was going to play nice. He poured you a glass, using a dropper to add just enough water to open up the volatile liquid memory of a dead civilization, and settled it in your outstretched hand.

            Thanking him for the glass, you took a slow sip. The complex taste rolled around your tongue, full of fire, oak, spice and fruit. Even if you didn’t get the information you needed, the drink would make the entire affair worthwhile. Hux had crossed away from you, towards the window, looking out into the vast space of the Outer Rim, towards the realms of Hutt Space. “Have you ever been to the fathier race track at Canto Bight, Counselor?” He didn’t turn from his watch across the stars.

            “Once, but I have no interest in games I can’t win by my own hand.”

            “My father felt the same way, so he decided to buy racing stallions.” The remains of dinner grew cold, so you rose from the dining table to resettle on the black leather sofa behind him. “And once he had a taste for winning, he went all in. He even established a bloodline of champion racers.

            “I never much cared for it myself, but considering the investment he made in them, and the amount of clout it seemed to afford him, he made sure that I understood the business.” Walking away from the window, he circled behind you, running his hand along the back seam of the furniture, ghosting past your exposed back. “One day, he brought me down to the stables for a studding. He had paid a rather breathtaking sum for the stud fee and the mare, so I didn’t make a fuss, but I didn’t understand the desire to watch such an exchange.

            “I was even more surprised when we got there to find that the mare he had spent so much money on was going absolutely mad. The stable hands couldn’t hold her down, she resisted the stud like mad, and seemed like a waste of credits to me. I asked my father if he was going to request recompense for the beast. Do you know what he said to me?”

            Placing a hand on either side of your shoulders, he dropped his head so that his low whisper brushed along your ear. “You’re wasting seed if you don’t have to break the mare first.”

            Before you could flinch, he had moved again, taking slow even steps past you to lounge on the other side of the sofa. You took little time gathering herself together mentally—this wasn’t your first time in the ring. “And what, General? Instead of enjoying one of those meek little administrative aids, you would waste your time on the impossible task of ‘breaking’ me?” Taking another sip, you shot him a warning look. “Given my position, I think we both know that would be a fatal mistake on your part.”

            “And yet you joined me, wearing that sumptuous little number.” He leaned forward, dangerously toeing into your personal space. “Maybe not impossible, but I think breaking you in would certainly be an enjoyable task.” Breaking you in. He said it like a man who always got what he wanted, even if he had to take it. Surveying his face, you saw that his pupils had dilated, and his tongue was brushing slowly over his lower lip. He had forgotten how very willing you were to punish him for even considering it. “You certainly crave it. That’s why you’re so interested in that petulant child, Ren, isn’t it? You think he can break you?” You had just been moving to scramble away or smack him, whatever happened first, but you stilled, seeing your opening.

            “What if I am? It’s none of your business.” You most certainly weren’t, but anything to keep the red-head talking.

            “I can hardly imagine you getting what you want out of him. For as long as I have been burdened with his assignment, I have never heard of him being intimate with anyone. He hardly tolerates the company of anyone other than his own knights.” Hux inched closer, taking the material of your skirt between his fingers, “I doubt he would have any idea how to truly please a woman.”

            You remembered from one of your few conversations with Snoke about his young apprentice that the later had been training as a Jedi before the Supreme Leader took him in. Your impression was that the Jedi were devoted to emotional detachment, celibate. It was very possible that the man had no experience. A weakness. You needed to make sure.

            “Just because he hasn’t been caught bending one of his junior officers across his desk doesn’t mean he doesn’t fuck, General. Maybe he understands the importance of discretion.”

            Hux gave a snide laugh. “That incompetent dog? He doesn’t have the intelligence or skill to be discrete. Besides, even if someone was pathetic enough to seek his attentions, he would probably kill them for considering it.”

            That sounded like a reasonable assessment based on your experience. “Maybe he sleeps with some of his knights? You certainly enjoy your crew, from what I hear.”

            “It was rumored when he first came here that he was tied to the only woman in their ranks, but I have seen nothing to confirm it. You on the other hand,” he started fingering circles across your velvet-covered thigh, “seem to have kept track of my history. I wonder why you have such interest.”

            “Given your prolific conquests, it is hardly a secret, General. It’s less that I have an interest and more that you are a topic of gossip among your officers.”

            “What have you heard? Anything you wish to confirm for yourself?” He flashed you a salacious grin.

            “Only that you clearly are threatened by Ren’s presence, and have taken to spanking your pretty subordinates to assert your dominance.”

            “I could indulge you in a similar fashion if you like.” He began winding the fabric up into his hand, slowly revealing your leg. “But no, I am not threatened by Ren’s presence; I am exhausted by him. Any his strength he contributes is generally outweighed by his thoughtlessness and the destruction he brings on his own forces. For all of his supposed worth to the Supreme Leader, he is useless to me. He seems to harbor some delusion that he can command me, but he would destroy the Order if left unchecked. He is too soft, too weak, and his parentage begs several questions about his loyalty—” He cut himself off, aware that he had let some secret slip.

            “Parentage? Do tell, General,” you hummed. This could be information that made tolerating his flirtations worthwhile.

            “None of your concern. You would do well to remember that while you are here.” His rant about the other officer complete, he seemed to remember why he was slowly inching his face towards yours. Your knee exposed, he slipped his other hand underneath your dress, moving it inwards. “I, on the other hand, know exactly when to be gentle, or firm, depending on what is needed.” His lips moved dangerously close to your neck

            The conversation no longer helpful, you yanked your skirt away, scowling. “I’m afraid your discerning nature will have to remain a mystery to me.” You quickly made your way towards the door before you did something you would surely regret. “Besides,” you took one last glance over your shoulder as you opened the blast door, “I don’t waste my time with _inferior_ men.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut train is coming into the station people! I am super excited to hop on board--hope you are too!
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and please feel free to shoot comments and ideas this way!


	5. Indecent Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you’re intent on showing me how depraved you are,” there was the distinct sound of a buckle coming undone, “you should give a full demonstration.”

            After your dinner with Hux, you were certain of four things. First, the General was either going to be, somehow, more intolerable from then on out, or he was relentlessly going to pursue you until you gave in and fucked him. Probably both. Second, he and Ren were clearly in a power struggle and hated one another, which could be used against either of them moving forward. Third, there were secrets about the Force user’s parentage that could give you a sizable advantage, considering even Hux didn’t want to share it. You would have to start hunting that down, even if it wasn’t immediately helpful. And finally, Ren was lonely.

            You had something you could work with.

            There were several ways you could use this new information. You could try to play the two men off of each other, either with sex, praise, or rage. The problem with that plan was it would certainly disrupt the entire ship’s operations, and thus not very utilitarian. You could also try to wait out Ren’s abuse until you were able to dig up whatever juicy secret Hux was hiding, but you didn’t know if Snoke would give up on you sooner rather than later, so that wasn’t a great plan either. Also, you weren’t a fan of having him suplex your brain repeatedly until you found something better.

            For now, you would have to test with simpler methods: distraction. Kylo Ren’s unhinged fury had been used against you, but you could turn it against him if you understood what motivated it. Your master had taught you that most anger was a powerful manifestation of a deeper feeling, with pure anger something reserved for people with actual power. Anger could come from fear, shame, sadness, confusion, any number of causes. With the limited information you had, it was likely that Ren’s anger came from either a need for control, thus his war with Hux, or from a sense of loneliness. You would have to get under his skin and figure out which one so his anger would distract him from his task. He couldn’t search your mind if he was too busy protecting his own.

            The day after you had attempted to deceive him, he had been called away to join the knights on a purge, giving you a few days to formulate a plan. When he came back, you would be ready for him.

 

~~~ 

 

            The stormtrooper had just effectively disarmed your dagger and was about to grapple you to the floor when Phasma called the match. The captain had allowed you to engage in training with some of the newer cadets that had just arrived from the academy, but you were just as unsuccessful against them as you were against her.

            “Oh, come on! I was about to sweep the leg!” The well-mannered trooper had hauled you off the ground apologizing. “It’s fine. Captain let you off easy this time.” You joked, but you were a bit sour about the loss. Actually, you were a bit sour in general. Your mood had hardly improved since your dinner with the general. The excitement of your new plan had dwindled quickly into anxiety. Ren had been gone longer than expected, and with all of your free time over the week, you had started to lose your confidence. You had also been running into Hux with unwelcome frequency.

            Anytime you were in the Command Center, he was uncomfortably close, letting his body skim against yours, talking in your ear. He eventually had caught you unaware in an administrative conference room, boxing you in against one of the tables.

            “It’s time to stop playing coy and spread those pretty legs for me, Counselor.” You hopped up onto the table to try and move away, but his hands dug into the crease where your thighs joined your hip and his mouth was inches from yours.  Sure, there was a rush, a thrill from being pursued so eagerly, but it didn’t quite overwhelm the pervasive need to run your fist into his face, repeatedly if possible. Besides, you couldn’t risk anything with the General until you had tested the waters with Ren. It was all a delicate calculation, and Hux was fucking it up.

            “Let me show you why those pretty junior officers are so eager to bend over my desk.” He was starting to grind his cock against you, to dry hump you in the middle of the damn day, when you finally did snap and grab his manhood with a vice-like grip.

            “The reason they bend over,” you snarled, watching his eyes swell with pain and panic, “is because you have a power advantage over them and they probably don’t see themselves as having a choice.” He had backed away, your grip still uncomfortably firm on him as you moved to the blast door. “I, on the other hand, am in no such position. I fuck who I want, when I want, and if you think you can just assert yourself over me, let me correct that misconception. Go. Away.”

            Apparently, the general did not understand “No means no,” and had persisted, though he had been wise enough to keep his crotch out of arms reach. You had decided to take refuge under the watchful eye of Captain Phasma as a result, but in exchange, you were collecting new bruises and welts every day.

            “You do realize that sweeping the leg is not a thing, Counselor?” She walked with you to the blaster range, where you were planning on putting images of the General and the Commander on targets. You grumbled in response. “What troubles you?” Her tone wasn’t sympathetic, just inquisitive. It was a question that was more of a warning than actual concern; you were acting strange and she didn’t like it.

            You ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it back. “I’m just sick of how useless I feel. It seems like every man on this ship is looking to undermine me.”

            “Every man?”

            “Yes, every man!”  You picked up one of the F-11D blasters off of the rack and inspected it before aiming down sights. “I’m sick of being second-guessed and disrespected because I’m a woman.” You punctuated every other word with a blast towards an innocent target, fuming. Finally, you looked over at the other woman. “How do you handle it?”

            She paused, standing at ease as she considered your words. “I suppose I demand their respect. Normally, they respect me because I am stronger than they are, or I outrank them.” She inspected her own blaster, before firing three perfect bullseyes.

            You leaned against the range barrier. “What do you do when they don’t respect you? When they don’t follow the rules or they have the upper hand?”

            She didn’t look at you as she answered, firing concussive shots as targets sprung out in front of her. “What I would do in any situation when I am caught unawares: I improvise.” Placing the blaster down, she gestured around her at the stormtroopers training. “That’s what our troopers are taught from day one. Always be prepared to improvise. Keep your opponent guessing. If a man doesn’t respect me when he should, I create a new reason, ideally one he isn’t expecting.”

            You stood still, considering her wisdom. “Huh.” Improvisation was a universal skill, it seemed.

             Satisfied with her speed and accuracy, she replaced the blaster back on the rack, and started searching for a new weapon. After a moment, she pulled out an EE-9 carbine rifle and exchanged it for your blaster. “Watch for the kick.” She stepped back as you braced yourself and gave the rifle a try. “If Hux is bothering you, I can’t help you, and to be honest, if they are going to actually respect you, it has to be something you do on your own.” The butt of the gun punched into your shoulder as you fired—it did have some kick. You shot her a satisfied grin over your shoulder.

            “What if I pay you?,” you teased.

            A snicker escaped from underneath the chrome helmet, as you took another turn with the rifle. “Again, you have to do it.”

            You feigned a pout. “You’re not being a good friend.”

            “I’m not your friend, Counselor. But I am committed to teaching you to stand your own ground. Just no more leg sweeps.” She took the rifle and directed you out of the range.

            “It’s a cool move. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

 

~~~

 

            The day had finally come. Kylo Ren had returned from his mission, sending you a message to notify you of his return as opposed to coming to startle you somewhere in the ship. You had something of a plan in mind, but you had taken Phasma’s advice to heart. You needed to be ready to improvise.

            You arrived earlier than usual, attempting to steel your nerves. MH3, completely oblivious to the impending showdown, was keeping itself busy by running a diagnostic on the air quality of the chamber, attempting to determine if your prolonged exposure to the contaminants in the area would require a more astringent cleanser or a detoxifying juice. You had just started to tell the droid that you doubted there was a need to accommodate your grooming for different biomes in the ship when the sound of heavy footfalls piqued your ears.

            He swept in like a specter, full of unknown intentions and unreadable emotions. Time apart had done nothing to diminish your fear or the disquiet he exuded. What had changed was that he was accompanied by a rolling black BB unit. You pursed your lips.

            “The Supreme Leader provided a suggestion for our training,” he answered your unasked question. “It is a simulation focused on endurance, more for my training than yours.”

             That made your eyebrows knit together. Were you now going to be a test subject for him to practice on? That did not sound at all pleasant.

            “The droid will provide you a set of random characters, like a launch code. The brain stores random sequences differently than facts that are tied to objects or mnemonic devices. Instead of dealing with recognition, your memory relies on pure serial recall. I should have to work harder to pull the information out without damaging or changing the sequence.” The two of you walked into the main interrogation chambers. “I need a challenge since working against you isn’t much of one. Your expression soured just out of sight. Oh, you were going to challenge him, alright.

            The droid rolled up beside you and spit out a little piece of paper. There was a string of fifteen characters—nothing too complicated. “Take some time to memorize that, then we’ll begin.” He gestured the BB unit over to a corner, its task completed for the time being.

            E84fa2**Ie0923R. “Done.” He whipped his bucket-head at you, and you shrugged in response. You retained things quickly, and you didn’t want to dawdle.

            “I’d appreciate if you would at least pretend to put some effort into this, Counselor.” You couldn’t help if he perceived your actions as flippancy. Your intelligence wasn’t for his benefit.

            You sighed, moving onto the slab interrogation table, a little anxious to get started. “Trust me, Commander. I have memorized the sequence.”

            “Is that so? Well then, maybe this will be a quick practice.” He started strapping you in, focused on restraining you. It was time to start.

            “What, Ren? Don’t tell me you think everyone is as simple-minded as you.” The strap on your thigh became bone-crushing tight. “Not everyone can rely on having a tantrum to get their way.

            “I think I’m really going to enjoy this.” _Not as much as I am._ “Let’s see if this proves to be as easy as I imagine it will. Build your wall.” You didn’t build a wall in your mind. That wasn’t the point anymore. You felt the familiar rattle of Force tendrils starting to pool in at the spot on your temple. Immediately, you started off thinking about the insults by Hux, and other officers, the gossip you had overheard. The theme of Ren’s incompetence and intolerable fits of anger flashed upon the walls of your mind like giant holoprojections. Pathetic. Raging. Uncontrollable. Incompetent. Unfit. Useless. You let it crash down on him like a tidal wave as his mind tried to dig out the fresh string of characters.

            His tendrils pulled back, and he got dangerously close, body tensing into a low hunch. “You think such a juvenile effort is going to keep me out? None of this is anything I haven’t heard, and none of it is worth paying attention to. You’ll have to do better than that,” he hissed, hands twitching. Clearly, it was doing something.

            The tentacles reached inside again, more ferocious than before. You put up the same walls, putting specific attention on Hux’s tirades. You could barely sense Ren gripping the padded head restraint, as you pushed against him. The first two characters seemed to be pulled out with a long set of tweezers “E. 8. Seriously, Counselor, you’re going to have to do better than that.” You could hear heavy breaths escaping the helmet. You pushed back, remembering every word from the hated general’s mouth.

_“He seems to harbor some delusion that he can command me, but he would destroy the Order if left unchecked. He is too soft, too weak, and his parentage begs several questions about his loyalty—”_

            The masked commander made an audible growl at the statement, and you could feel one of the tendrils wrapping around the thought. You were baiting him, so you tried to send what about it caught his attention. Fear? Humiliation? Jealousy? His parents had to be the weak point, but you didn’t have more, yet! The memory kept coming, partly as you let it unfurl, but also as the invading presence prodded at it, seeing if any secrets were divulged.

_“None of your concern. You would do well to remember that while you are here.” He had exposed your knee and was slowly slipping his hand towards your inner thigh. “I, on the other hand, know exactly when to be gentle, or firm, depending on what is needed.”_

            He growled again. That was a response. You remembered what you had learned. Ren was lonely, afraid, and jealous. Time to give him a show.

            Through the pressure engulfing your mind, you focused your attention towards Hux’s unyielding flirtations, and let it devolve into false visions. The General’s ambush in the conference room turned into an afternoon rut, with the general thrusting into you instead of against you. More of the tendrils started curling around your projections, abandoning their task. You fed them more, dropping the reins to let your libido run free. On your knees, on your back, against a wall, in all states of dress and undress.

            You could feel him starting to resist, trying to pull the vines of the Force away and back to his task, but you were too entangled. It was all too easy to give in to those persistent desires, and soon the co-star of your sordid thoughts transformed. So much of him was a mystery, so you imagined him how you wanted him: firm and ready. You let him see your most constant fantasy. Tied up to the interrogation table, restrained, clothes ripped open. Ren, pressing down against you, hands constantly moving, thrusting into you. You imagined him pulling his mask back far enough to expose his mouth and then crushing your mouths together. You could feel the pain and pressure release, feel him giving in—

            A surge of pain hit you again. You could feel his anger clawing away from you. For the first time, you screamed.

            You were back in real time. “The Supreme Leader commanded you to learn how to resist me, but it is clear you have no interest in doing so. He was right when he said you lacked respect or obedience.” The searing pain behind your retinas subsided, and the familiar sensation of restraints coming undone warned you of an impending collision with the floor. Your knee caps made their usual protests as they banged against the metal, too wrecked to stand, as usual. In the back of your mind, you heard the movement of fabric, as your captor’s large cloak fell to the floor. “If you’re intent on showing me how depraved you are,” there was the distinct sound of a buckle coming undone, “you should give a full demonstration.”

            Feeling his approach more than seeing or hearing it, you attempted to crawl away, but a sharp grip came under your chin. Ren pulled you to your knees, lifting your face to the familiar blank helmet. The black and chrome betrayed no emotion, but you could feel the wickedness and delicious fury curling off of him. Without the concealment of his massive over cloak, you could also see the strain of fabric threatening to come undone: you were winning. “I don’t play with little boys, Commander.”

            He growled, releasing your chin in favor of fisting your hair, hard.  “I think you’ll find I’m not a little boy.” Holding you steady in front of him, his other hand pulled down his waistband, freeing a painfully hard cock. There was a lingering fog of pain and terror in your mind, but a little part of you was glowing with victory, and you could feel a rush of heat run through your veins, down to your core. Definitely not a little boy. He was long and thick, just like everything else about him, throbbing with the perfect bit of curve.  _All the things he could do to with that equipment._ Your eyes flicked between his visor and his cock, saliva pooling down the back of your throat. “Show me.”

            “Fair warning,” your tongue slipped along your bottom lip, your voice slipping out dark and harsh like smoke, “I don’t play nice.”

            You gripped his powerful thighs, hooking the tips of your fingers on his waistband, and moved your lips to give a gentle kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerked and the slightest hiss came through the vocal modifier. Pressing wet, sucking kisses along the shaft, you brought your body as flush with his as the hand in your hair would allow. Soon, you had him as slick as your slit had begun to feel, and a second hand had woven itself into the locks of your hair. With every kiss, every quick lick, you could feel his hips buck slightly, his grip tighten, begging for you to take him in your mouth. You wished you knew his face, could see the pained, desperate expression.

            “Enough!” Your head was jerked up towards the faceless mask, “You can do better than that.” He moved one of his hands down to your face and pressed a gloved thumb into your mouth, rolling it around your tongue. “I saw your mind the first time we met. You were desperate for my dick without even knowing my face.” You started to suckle at the intrusion, keeping your eyes on the slits of his mask. “Yes, show me how desperate you are.” You sucked harder, savoring the taste of leather. His shoulders heaved as you moved to suck at each of his fingers. Lavishing them in wet attention, you made sure to leave each digit with an audible pop.

            Without warning, you released his hand and pressed your mouth to his cock, taking him until he rutted against the back of your throat. He swore, both of his hands started pulling at your hair again as you set on his shaft with enthusiasm. The motion of his girth moving in and out churned your saliva into a froth, dribbling out of the corners of your mouth and down your throat. You marveled how little room there was in your mouth with his cock filling it so well. “That filthy mouth of yours feels perfect on my dick.” The praise sent warmth pooling between your legs. You felt his death grip on your hair tighten, and he used the leverage to push himself further in, down your throat, making you gag. Eyes watering, you blinked furiously, trying to flush them out as eye makeup ran in ruinous rivulets down your cheeks.

            The way he moaned your name, the way his chest heaved, the way he canted his hips into you was making you greedy. You wrapped your hands around him where your mouth couldn’t reach, pumping furiously up and down his length in time with your lips. It made your pussy clench when you heard a growl erupt from the mask, and you felt his hands trying to drag you back to him. You couldn’t fight the smirk that pulled at the corners of your stuffed lips, locking eyes with the slits of his visor. _If you think this is as good as it gets, Commander, you have another thing coming_. 

            You dipped your head down and started sucking on his balls, swallowing, alternating your attention between the two of them, as your hands continued to stroke back and forth. The delicious noise you got in response was somewhere between a startled yelp and a ravenous plea. You were undoing him.

            He was moaning with abandon, lost and desperate. The telltale signs of release started to manifest, as his balls started to pull tight against your attention. He was so close to the tipping point. You moved your mouth to once again drag sloppily along his shaft, never releasing your wet grip on him.

            A strangled groan erupted from him as one of his massive hands grabbed his own cock away from your hands. “I need to cum in that filthy, perfect mouth.” He forced himself past your lips again and started to thrust erratically. You didn’t even bother to try to keep up, knowing he was too far gone for anything you did to matter. You had already won.

            “Fuck!” He yelled your name as hot cum streaked the inside of your throat, thrusting as far as he could into you. The taste was bitter and tangy, thick on your tongue. After a few final jerks of his hips, he stilled, one hand stroking the side of your neck.

            The gloved hand in your hair was still taut on your scalp. Static, heaving breaths came through the mask above you. Never dropping your gaze, you let his softening cock fall from your lips, leaning your head back so he could watch the muscles in your neck work as you swallowed his seed down. He made a satisfied groan, wiping the last drops of cum from himself. “Yes, I see it now,” he slid a cum covered thumb on your face, mixing it with blotches of tear-streaked eyeliner, “you’re better suited as a whore.”

            A twitch pulled at the corner of your lips. Raising your eyes to fix on his visor, you wiped off the mixture of snot, spit, and semen with your sleeve. “Commander,” your eyes crinkled slightly, “what is the next character in the sequence?”

            Gloved hands balled and flexed. You could feel yourself starting to panic, but it was met with an equal rush of glee, a reassurance that if your life ended in that moment, it was worth it. Without warning, Ren grabbed one of the metal carts full of instruments and flung it across the room. Tools scattered across the floor as he grabbed a chair, sending it flying as well. You expected him to pull out his notorious red blade, to start slicing ribbons in either the slab table or you, but he didn’t reach for it. Instead, he made one more distressed, guttural yell, and stormed out, the BB unit spinning after him.

            When the last of the syringes finally ceased rolling around on the floor, leaving the room in stillness, the surge of adrenaline in your muscles ebbed, and you collapsed to the floor. Except for this time when you hit the floor, instead of moaning in pain, you were laughing in sheer, victorious, unbridled delight.

 

_~~~_

 

_Finally. Finally, he had given into temptation, and still, he was denied satisfaction._

_In his fantasies, he had imagined kneeling before her, kissing every inch of her body before plunging his mouth into her core, making her cum over and over, but still leaving her wanting more. Sometimes in his dreams, she even begged him with tears in her eyes, desperate for him to fuck her into oblivion, saying she was his, that he was all she needed. She wanted to be his and his alone._

_In reality, she had been on her knees before him, submitting to him, worshiping his cock with her mouth, somehow even more perfect than his fantasies. But she had bested him, leaving him wanting, not the other way around. The only thing she needed from him was his failure. And he had given her that._

_And a sick part of him loved it. Loved how clever she was. Humiliation ate away at him as he stared into the mask of his grandfather._

 

 ~~~

 

            The next morning, there was a spring in your step as you sauntered into PT, despite the ungodly hour. The shit-eating grin on your face hadn’t receded an inch, even as you fell into bed, slept better than you had in weeks, and awoke to MH3’s alarm. You looked in the mirror as you rounded the corner to the training rooms. It was still there.

            Shortly after waking up, your droid had given you the blessed news: Ren had suspended your training, indefinitely. His message had been blunt and factual, but you could tell from the short sentences that he was furious. Probably locked up in his dark corner of the ship, thrashing open the walls of the ship so violently he threatened to cause a hull breach. You had beaten him, after all.

            “What has you so pleased this morning, Counselor?” Phasma walked away from a training mat, where the trooper she clearly just trounced was crawling away.

            She watched as you started your stretches, making sure your legs and arms were ready for the vigorous set of exercises she was about to subject you too. You started on a pathetic round of pushups, not looking up as your voice burned with confidence. “My dear Captain, I will soon be departing your company, and headed back to my actual job.”

            The bottom of her boot pressed down on your lower back. “Mind your form. How did you manage that?” She kept it there as you finished the last few, before rolling over onto your back to started on sit-ups.

            “Commander Ren has decided we are done with the training Snoke was having us work on, so I should be hearing from the Supreme Leader about my next mission within the next day or so.” You shot her a cocky grin as you sprung up from the floor, walking over to one of the treadmills.

            She adjusted it to a higher incline than you were used to, but you said nothing. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Counselor. Did you actually complete your training, or did you simply manage to piss him off past the point of no return? Given the tantrum the Commander threw last night, there are a number of possibilities.”

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you panted. “But I would love to hear about this tantrum.”

            The Chrome-laden officer snorted. “I do not know the details, but General Hux was livid this morning.”

            “Oh, two for the price of one! My lucky day!” You could just imagine it. Ren had probably torn apart some expensive equipment, or sent several crew members to the med bay, leaving Hux to figure out what set him off. You liked the idea of making messes that the general would be forced to clean up.

            “Be careful. I know you think you have won, but it is likely just this battle. Both of those men are more than willing to go to war.” You cocked an eyebrow. “I think it is highly unlikely that either of them is simply going to let you leave this ship if you have offended them. And both of them have the Supreme Leader’s ear. Be wary.”

            With her final warning, she walked away, leaving you to continue huffing on the machine. Your grin finally started to falter.

 

~~~

 

_The Supreme Leader had summoned him to train, like so many days before, but he could feel his master’s energy probing his own, as if he sensed his apprentice’s failure. There was a part of Kylo that was terrified. Snoke had surely watched the recording of their training, of how she had seduced him into stupidity. What if the rumors were true, and she was Snoke’s concubine, and he had unwittingly facefucked her right in front of this master? He wasn’t sure if the horror of that possibility was more overwhelming than the pure shame he had of being outwitted. He couldn’t believe that he had done so in front of the damn droid, knowing that his master had suggested the use of it in the first place. Rage and humiliation swirled in his head as he approached the holodeck._

_The projection of Snoke was already in place when he arrived, his master sitting there with an absolutely predatory grin on his face. Whatever pile of bantha shit Kylo had unwittingly stepped into was about to become clear. He bowed low, acknowledging that he had been tardy._

_Snoke tittered. “You are not late, my young apprentice. I am simply eager to see your progress.” Kylo was confused. He was certain that the Supreme Leader was going to rip him literally, if not figuratively, into little pieces for his failure. The way he was smiling, the way his energy licked around him, tasting his fear, made it clear he knew what happened. “I thought we might start with some combat training.” The Supreme Leader’s tone was positively primeval._

_Without giving Kylo a chance to respond, several battle droids rushed out of the shadows, with numbers he had never engaged in training before. Snoke was angry and had just been toying with him. He cursed his stupidity. His master was going to kill him in training, and all because he couldn’t resist getting his cock sucked by a pretty girl._

_Suddenly, all he could feel was rage, combusting in every fiber of his being. He was furious about the situation, knowing that he was being punished for his indiscretion. Then he was cursing himself for being careless, but it was quickly overshadowed by a gale force blast of hatred for her, for the pretty counselor, who had humiliated him. She had dared to manipulate Kylo Ren, and everything was her fault._

_As this point, the droids had set upon him, but any fear he had was gone. He whirled through them, simultaneously throwing some across the room with the Force as he ripped through others with his blade. She caused all of this! It was obvious that she had been seducing him into this trap, jealous of his power, and she had dared to oppose him. Who did she think she was? Sparks flew around him as he brought his blade through two more droids, slicing through them like butter. He was going to lock her up, keep her, punish her._

_Now more droids were coming at him and he saw Snoke out of the corner of his eye, smirking. His master thought this was funny?! Even after all he had done, all of his loyalty, Snoke intended to keep something from him? Flashes of red spun through the dark chamber, sounds of destruction echoing through him. No, she wanted him, Kylo was certain of it. The way she had taken his cock like she was made for him. Why had Snoke given her to him if he was only going to take her away? Grabbing a metal neck hinge, Kylo slammed the battle droid onto the deck, then plunged his lightsaber through its control module. She belonged with him, underneath him, to him. His strength was immeasurable, indomitable, and no one would get in his way._

_The onslaught stopped, piles of scrap metal and fire all that remained from the battle. He had taken every last one of the droids apart. A slow clap startled Kylo back to reality. “Very good, my apprentice. Well done.” Snoke was practically beaming at him. “Such fury, such power, you have outdone yourself.” Fury? Kylo realized his master had probably been listening to him that whole time, had heard his disobedience._

_Ripping his helmet off he got down to his knees. “Master, I didn’t mean—it was a mistake—I don’t—” He couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, what had happened. His chest was heaving, and sweat dripped down his face, his hair. He hadn’t felt so angry in so long, so angry that he considered betraying his master. It couldn’t happen again. That was the one thing that was clear to him. “Supreme Leader, what happened last night will not happen again. She is unwilling to cooperate, so I will not continue, or let her further disrupt our work.”_

_A haunting cackle ripped through the air. “Oh, but it must continue, my young apprentice. Don’t tell me you thought I would let you run off with your tail tucked between your legs?”_

_“I’m not running—”_

_“You’re going to let her toy with you like that? Are a pretty face and tight cunt all it takes to undo the Mighty Kylo Ren?!” Snoke had raised his hackles, the sinkhole on his cheek threatening to tear wide-open._

_Kylo couldn’t look at the Supreme Leader, instead, throwing his helmet across the room,  “There is no reason to continue training. I’ll have her locked up”_

_“She disrespected you! Manipulated you! You think yourself worthy if you can’t control her?!”_

_“I can control her!”_

_“Then punish her! Put her in her place! Show her that her cheap tricks won’t work again!”_

_Kylo went silent, the anger returning, so hot that it was cooking his insides. His master was right. The only thing he could do was make her suffer, and the thing that would make her suffer most, such a proud and ambitious creature, would be to fail. He was going to make her say it too. She would beg him to stop, for forgiveness, for mercy, or he would kill her._

_“Yes, Master.”_

_“Do what is necessary, Ren. But if possible, do try to keep her in one piece. She is an unruly wench, but she is my unruly wench.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this WIP started with me writing down the interrogation scene. I'm so glad to share this smut nugget with all of you. A dirty little ficlet turned into a huge labor of love. I was deeply influenced by other all-stars when writing this, including kassanovella, Korpuskat, and Faestae. Reading their work encouraged me to post this. 
> 
> Thank you again so much for your reads, kudos, and comments. I don't have a ton of time to write, but you make it worth it! <3


	6. Incognito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The One Where You Play With Uniforms...
> 
> ...you dirty girl, you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to wickedness for the beta! Your support is wonderful!

            Three days had passed and you hadn’t heard from the Supreme Leader. Phasma still dragged you to training. Hux continued to be an insufferable ass. You were trapped on a star destroyer with nothing to work on. The only thing that had changed was that you were no longer training with Ren.

            You had seen him a few times, skulking around the command center, but he hadn’t engaged you. Simply refused to acknowledge your existence. It almost hurt your feelings. Yes, you had humiliated him, but you had also given him what you considered a spectacular blowjob. It wasn’t something you had an extensive sample size to review for your skill, but he had seemed to enjoy himself. At least until afterward when you blew away his post-orgasm afterglow with an ion cannon of smugness. The least he could do was pretend to lust after you.

            Equally frustrating was the fact that you weren’t entirely unaffected by the incident. Your additional free time meant you stewed in your own lust. You would try to lose yourself in reading reports or reviewing contracts, but a persistent and unpleasant twitch would alert you to the emptiness between your thighs.

            After almost a week, you finally gave in and attempted to reach out to your master, to inquire about returning the field. The response had been a blunt rejection: “The Supreme Leader is currently meeting with allies. He is aware that you wish to speak with him, and will contact you when he has time, Counselor,” one of his administrators had told you with about as much cheek as anyone had ever dared with you. Something had changed while you were away, and Snoke wasn’t going to tell you what it was. You were being exiled to the _Finalizer_ until he decided you had sufficiently repented, it seemed.

            Bored out of your mind, homesick for the feeling of solid ground under your feet, you struggled to keep yourself occupied. One outlet had been to start fussing with your clothes—playing dress up like a small child. With no afternoon and evening training sessions, you weren’t forced to wear bland training gear all day. Even though you preferred your fineries, you had to admit that there was a beauty to the straight lines and neatness of the officer’s uniforms. Curiosity brought you to the commissary’s office, and a bribe of a few credits quickly had you leaving it with a uniform of your own. You had elected to take an administrative officer’s garb, enjoying the option of the high-waisted pencil skirt that skimmed at your knees, and the well-cut jacket.

            As you slipped out of your quarters, you were suddenly struck by a wonderful sense of incognito. No one would pay you special attention in the uniform, which meant you could spy on the one person who seemed to be purposefully evading you.

            Lt. Mitaka was startled by your disguise when you emerged on the bridge. After a bit of flustered sputtering, he informed you of the Commander’s location, down in the staging arena with his company. There were observation decks above the arena that would be perfect for spying, so that’s where you headed.

            Like much of the First Order operations, a great deal of training took place on starships. The First Order was mobile in every way—even the capital was located on a massive starship as opposed to a planet. The _Finalizer_ was built with the intention of being a training vessel for the stormtrooper program, taking the most elite soldiers from front to front. Given that the ship itself was two kilometers long, the staging arena was sizable as well. That morning it had been set up to resemble an enemy bunker, with constructs around a single objective point. Squadrons of troops avoided practice fire and gradually gained control across the deck. They really were an elite force. But you weren’t looking at them.

            Kylo Ren was in the middle of the arena, tucked behind a steel plate with a squad around him. He was constantly shouting commands and listening to updates. It was the first time he actually looked like the title he held: Commander. Given how quickly his troops were moving towards the objective, you might even believe he earned it.

            You listened to his authoritative commands; every order was quick but considered. He even asked for input from the squad leaders. All you had seen of him was his petulance, his entitlement. The man you knew didn’t deserve the Supreme Leader’s attention, but the man on the field did. The man on the field was a threat.

            And he was looking at you.

            For the briefest moment, his helmet was faced your way. It was the first time he had acknowledged your existence, and you felt your heart flutter in terror. You shut your eyes and waited for the buzzing intrusion, but it never came. Instead, when you opened your eyes, he was looking away. You watched him sprint further into the spray, narrowly avoiding fire, flinging a droid across the arena as he did. He looked…powerful.

            As soon as the thought flickered across your mind, he was looking at you again. He knew you were there, sizing him up. In all likelihood, he was ready to act against you, that was why he was acknowledging you. That was why Snoke didn’t recover you and put you back on the field because Ren wasn’t done with you. Dread started to well up in your belly, like bile. You had to act first. And you know just where to start.

 

* * *

 

 

            “What can you tell me about Ren’s family?” You didn’t bother announcing yourself as you shut the door to Hux’s office behind you. He appeared to be reviewing reports on his holopad, his usual black overcoat draped over the back of his chair.

            He didn’t look up from his work. “I thought I told you to drop that.” He expected you to leave at the simple rejection.

            You sidled up to his desk, leaning over it so you obscured his access to his work. He didn’t like that, from the look on his face. “I don’t take orders from you, remember?”

            Finally looking up, he shot you an indignant look, which was quickly replaced by surprise. “Considering the uniform you are sporting, I am not sure that is true, Counselor,” he smirked, eyes sweeping over you.

            “I want answers,” you persisted, hovering over him.

            He leaned back in his leather highbacked chair.  “I would rather you not die a gruesome death. At least not until I have ravished you thoroughly.” He really had become insufferable.

            “I think what you mean is that you don’t want to die a gruesome death because you told me.” Even Hux was afraid of Ren. You didn’t understand before, because, despite Ren’s raw strength, the general always seemed like the superior officer—more strategic, more ruthless.  After watching the knight enforcer command his troops, however, that seemed to be less true.

            “It is something I would prefer to avoid, if possible.” He didn’t deny it. You really did need the information.

            Hopping your ass up on to the desk, you leaned closer towards him, purring like a confidant and ally. “Then at least tell me how to find out more. His records are completely redacted.”

            “Again, that is not a risk I am willing to take.” His words were sharp. It was obvious to both of you that this was all a ploy, given your admission over dinner. Whatever secret the redhead had, he wasn’t inclined to share it. You were going to have to dig it up on your own.

            You started to move back off his desk. “Well, I suppose I could take the risk if there was some reward,” his words stilled you.

            “If you’re saying you’ll tell me in exchange for a fuck, that’s never happening.”

            “Given how badly you want to get off this ship, I am fairly certain it will. But for now, I would settle for a taste.” Hux leaned forward and pinched the end of your jacket sleeve. He ran his fingers over the sleeve hem, admiring the material.

            You couldn’t help but cross your arms, pulling away from his attentions. “Define taste.”

            “I am sure we can compromise,” he smiled, his gaze still focused on the details of the jacket. You could feel him reviewing all the elements: the buttons on the sleeve and across the chest, the false rank insignia, the perfect creases. The man did love his uniforms.

            “Tell me what you know, and I’ll let you know what it’s worth.”

            He clucked his tongue. “You cannot think me that foolish, Counselor.”

            “Oh, but I really can,” you teased.

            Even though he had yet to meet your gaze, you could see the way his pupils started to dilate, hear the self-confidence that seemed to blossom in his voice. Here in his office, he believed he was running the show. You were just another pretty administrative officer, something he had plenty of experience with. You wondered what memories were spinning around behind those blue eyes. “Here is what I propose: I will provide you a lead _while_ you let me sample that lovely body of yours.”

            It seemed that there was some hope for the general’s negotiation skills. “Again, what constitutes a ‘sample?’”

            He paused, considering his options. “As much as I would love to have a taste of you, or better yet, have that smart mouth on my cock, I imagine you know how to use your hands?” A rather devious grin teased at his face, crinkling his eyes.

            “A handjob? What are we, cadets at the academy?”

            His tongue slipped along his teeth. “I will also expect some visual stimulation. Those lovely breasts of yours are in desperate need of my appraisal.”

            “Fine. But I want a specific contact I can direct my agent to. And so help me, if this information is useless, I will hurt you in ways you can’t imagine.”

            “Of course, Counselor.” He seemed confident. You didn’t trust the man as far as you could throw him, but he didn’t present any of the usual tells. And given your suspicion that you weren’t free from the masked commander just yet, you were willing to take risks. “Now, come here.” He patted the tops of his thighs.

            You started removing your jacket, laying it over the top of his desk. He unbuckled his large uniform belt, pulled off his gloves, and opened his own uniform coat, exposing his dress shirt and the tops of his jodhpurs, where a strain was already forming under the fabric. “Seriously. I will invent new forms of torture just for you.”

            “I am certain you will.” You settled yourself sidesaddle across his lap, one ankle tucked behind the other. “Not like that. Face me. I want you straddling me.”

            You gave an exasperated gesture to your skirt. “I am well aware. Straddle me, RC.” Rolling your eyes, you stood up and relented. You had to pull your fitted skirt high up on your thighs, exposing the tops of your stockings, straps teasing the existence of your garter belt. You parted your legs, coming down to rest just above his knees. Your feet were just barely touching the floor, so you couldn’t resist as he spread his own knees apart, opening your legs wider. “Perfect.” He ran his hands up and down your thighs, pushing your skirt over your backside and up to your waist. Fully exposed, he drank in the sight of your lace-covered slit.

            “You seem to be doing a lot of touching that you didn’t bargain for, Hux.” Your voice was snarky and removed, but a scintilla of husk betrayed itself. Your body was starved for attention.

            His hands gave a quick, sharp smack to the tops of your thighs, earning a yelp of surprise. “You will call me ‘General,’ or you will leave.” His tone sent a shiver down your spine. Your meeting was turning into one of those instances when you very much enjoyed a bit of structure and order.

            “Again, so many demands and expectations that I didn’t agree to, _General_.”

            “They were implied. Now, take off that blouse.”

            You frowned. “No. I’ll give you something to look at, but I’m not risking getting caught in your office without my clothes.” With that, you undid several buttons, baring your chest from neck to navel. You pulled your breasts from the cups of your bra, revealing them to the open air of Hux’s office. There was no seduction in it, a firm reminder that your actions were a means to an end.

            The normally shallow blue pools of his irises sunk like a well into his pupils shadowed with lust. “Normally I would not tolerate such disobedience, but this is acceptable.” One of his hands skimmed up your waist, stopping dangerously close to your now bare breasts. “Now, how do I convince you to let me taste them?” His tongue skimmed over his lower lip.

            You gave him a hard look. Down that path were terrible decisions waiting to be made. “That isn’t up for negotiation.”

            “For now.”

            Relaxing into your posture, your hands made a flourish down your torso. “Well, General, I’ve made a partial performance: start talking.”

            His eyes never met yours, flicking between your tits and your covered pussy. The intensity of his stare was almost tangible, an incorporeal tease at your flesh. “Not yet. I want your hands on me.”

            You groaned. “Of course you do. Fine.” Reaching forward, you started to unbuttoned his jodhpurs. Your movements weren’t hesitant—you had an objective and weren’t going to feign sheepishness for his sake, but you allowed yourself a moment to appreciate him. He was just a bit bigger than average, with pale, velvet soft skin, dusted with curls the same striking shade as his coifed crown. You would be calling him ‘General Fire Crotch” in your head from then on. “Now, if you want me to move my hands, I want information.”

            “And what wonderful hands they are,” he murmured, watching your hand wrap around his shaft. The general leaned back into his seat, his hands resting at your hips. “Kylo Ren has been serving under the Supreme Leader for roughly ten years, but he was not seen in the First Order until six years ago. Slower.”

             “You will take what I give you.” Despite your verbal admonishment, you did slow your movements. You had some mercy in your heart.

            “Such a brat,” he simmered, earning another look of exasperation from you. “Supreme Leader Snoke brought him into High Command, and shortly afterward, there were rumors calling him the ‘Jedi Killer.’ Tales about how he killed all of Skywalker’s apprentices and burned down the Jedi Temple. Spit.” He stretched his open hand to your lips as if his request was the most natural thing in the world. There was no harm in keeping him engaged, so you ran the flat of your tongue over his palm before spitting into his palm. Without acknowledging your compliance, his hand quickly joined yours, spreading your spit across his length, rolling over the top of the head and coming down to cover your own. “I was curious about where the rumor started.”

            “Didn’t like having your position threatened, General?” You started to tug a little harder, the new lubrication letting you slide around with ease. Having finished his task, he returned his grip to cradle your backside, gently kneading it.

            “We all knew about the massacre. I wanted to know who was responsible. I sent out a few contacts to hunt down what they could about the end of the Jedi. Both hands now.” His eyelids fluttered closed, his hips starting to roll against your grip. You abided his request, secretly savoring the sound of your spit squishing between your fingers as you squeezed his cock. He hummed his appreciation. “I needed to know why Kylo Ren was there.”

            Despite your distaste for the man before you, you couldn’t deny the inherent eroticism of the scene. With your legs spread across his thighs, you felt wonderfully vulnerable, every movement pulling the material of your underwear across your slit. Your nipples had started to tighten and color with pooling arousal, your flesh covered in goose-pimples.

            Hux seemed to have noticed your desire as well. The hand that had been pleasantly skimming the skin of your thigh moved inward, trailing along the hem of your panties like a sneak thief. “Counselor, if this is going to make you so wet, I insist you let me tend to your needs.” The cheeky bastard was right. You were already wound up from the dance between you and Ren. Letting yourself get into this situation, it seemed you were just begging for him to take advantage of your overstimulated libido.

            The general’s thumb dipped under the edge of your panties, and dragged a manicured nail along your outer lips, testing the waters.

            “There’s nothing you can do to change my mind, General, so keep your hands to yourself.” Even you could hear the waiver in your warning.

            “Are you sure?,” he whispered in a voice that felt like the glowing embers of charcoal on a cold night. His opposable digit just barely dipped into the bottom seam of your entrance, collecting some of the traitorous moisture that had pooled there. He dragged his thumb back out and admired the slick, clear and viscous. “With such pretty juices, I think you are just aching for me to please you.”

            Dropping your grip from his stiff cock, you grabbed his hand, a stern warning. “I assure you, General, I am capable of taking what I need from a man.” Without thinking, you took the thumb in your mouth, licking up your own slick. “You need to focus on your end of the bargain.”

            You watched him swallow deep, his previously lidded gaze, shot wide open from your luring. He cleared his throat, returning to the moment. “Well, yes, after Ren appeared, I sent agents to look into his background, to validate his involvement. Faster. They were able to track down a contact who had assisted as a caretaker for the temple.” His breaths were heavy, his eyes flitting between the movement of your hands, the flush creeping around your neck, the wet spot slowly covering the crotch of your lacy panties, and the perfect peaks of your nipples.

            “Did the caretaker know his parents?”

            “Better than that. He knew his true name. That was all it took.” The shorter sentences betrayed his arousal. His cock was pulsing from your unrelenting attention.

            “I need a name, General,” you cooed, trying to ignore your own burning heat.

            “I will give you a name when I cum all over your pretty thighs.”

            Your own control was starting to dwindle, as was your patience. A wild goose chase was the last thing you wanted to worry about. The sooner you got a name from him, the sooner you could blackmail and undo Ren, and the sooner you could get off the terrible ship. “You know, you could skip all of this foreplay and just tell me who his parents are. Save us both the trouble.” You remembered his admission from earlier. Maybe you could troll him in if you used the right bait. “Don’t you want to cum in my mouth?”

            That earned a heavy groan.  “No, I want to come in your cunt. And I assure you I am going to very soon. But for now,” he dug his hands under your ass and dragged you down his thighs until you were flush with his chest, “this will do.” He started thrusting his cock between the wet crevice of your undergarments, stroking across your clit. You couldn’t help the little moan that broke through your mouth.

            “This wasn’t a part of the agreement, General.” You pushed against his chest, but with little force. The way his length pressed against you, dragging across your sweet spot, sent a tingle down to your toes.

            “You can stop me if you need to, but I suggest you rest your little wrists, and let me focus on cumming across those pretty panties.” With that, he started bucking his hips, using his grip on your backside to firmly grind you against him. You had difficulty stifling moans, the force of his movements creating a wonderful wide span of pressure between your thighs, spreading the pleasure around. Somewhere, this exchange had gotten out of hand, but you weren’t going to stop him.

            “Much better, RC. You’re so fucking wet for me.” A drip of sweat rolled down along his perfect sideburn. Contractions and swears from that mouth? He was getting close. He just needed a little nudge.

            You leaned in further, whispering into his ear. “With your cock so close to my pussy, why wouldn’t I be, General?”

            On cue, he moaned your name, his release shooting out over your lace underthings and scrunched-up skirt.

            You let him catch his breath, sitting further back towards his knees. His blue eyes seemed to be lost in the moment, so you tapped one of his high cheekbones. When his gaze finally focused on yours, you raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Right. You are a rather impatient creature, Counselor.” Sitting up straighter, he took a few deep breaths. “You are looking for a nautolan named Raileek Sorlien. He was in Hutt Space last time I heard.”

            You hopped off of his lap, grinning. “Thank you for your assistance, General.”

            Moving to adjust your skirt back into place, you didn’t notice his hands shooting out, grabbing your wrists. His eyes were back in focus, steely and dark. He released your wrists and moved to trace his fingers up your thighs. Kneeling down in front of you, he gripped the now-ruined lace undergarments and swiftly pulled them down past your knees. You were too surprised to stop him, even lifting your feet as he brought them past your ankles.

            Having captured his prize, he rose, taking the time to straighten your skirt out before standing with a satisfied smirk. “I believe these are mine now.” He tucked the stained piece of lace into the pocket of his jodhpurs and began redoing his own buttons.

            You weren’t going to let yourself fluster in front of him, so you readjusted your top and headed towards the door. Refusing to look back at what you were certain was a smug, punchable grin, you raised your voice as you exited. “Remember, General—I’ll murder you if it’s no good.”

            Besides, there was a nautolan your agent in Hutt Space needed to hear about.

 

* * *

 

_Kylo felt her before he saw her. By then, he was finely attuned to her energy, the way the Force moved around her. But he didn’t see her. Not at first._

_The first time had been when he was training with a company of troopers, executing a mock point capture. They had actually been performing above expectations, taking out practice droids, staying in formation and avoiding fire. He had just flagged a squadron to flank left when he felt it, the tug of her energy on his. It was like gravity, pulling him into her orbit, spinning him around to face the observation decks. He knew she would have easily stood out, it was her very nature, but when he quickly scanned above, her face was nowhere to be seen. His own squadron moved from cover, just barely avoiding suppressing fire. He knew he had to focus, to keep his attention on the exercise, but he snuck another look where he felt her. Again, she was missing. She must have known he was looking for her, close to discovering her, because her presence slipped away.  He started losing troopers for the remainder of the exercise, just barely capturing the objective._

_The second time was in the Command Center. After reviewing the recordings of the training exercise, he was livid, knowing his poor performance was because of her presence. Because once she entered his thoughts the only escape from her was his own release. He needed an outlet for his anger. There was word of a potential target on Kiffa that would need to be purged, and he had been waiting for mission details from the Supremacy for him and his knights. All he needed was clearance, so he headed towards the Command Center. Making his way across the deck, he felt her again._

_Kylo could feel her somewhere in the swarm of administrative officers that milled around. His head swiveled back and forth, trying to locate her. Nothing! He was starting to become concerned that he was imagining it, that she had actually driven him crazy, when it clicked into place._

_She was in disguise._

_She was in uniform._

_It was difficult for him to blend in, to go unnoticed, but he needed to find her before she found him. He hung along the sides of the command center, moving up a small flight of stairs to get a better vantage point. He reached out through the Force, focusing entirely on the glimmer that was distinctly her. There._

_She was walking out of General Hux’s office. The sight of her in the fitted uniform was more exciting than it should have been. He would likely be imagining it later. She was walking with purpose, a wicked grin on her face. He knew that look, and he hated it. He hated how her perfect lips curled up to round her cheeks, and how her seared with dominance. It was a look of success. She came closer to his hiding spot but had yet to discover him. Other officers had noticed his loitering, nervously avoiding contact with him, even though he took up most of the staircase, but something was distracting her. Whatever had her attention seemed to have her heart racing, the way her chest labored slightly. He noticed that her uniform was slightly disheveled, though he supposed it was because she never wore one. Then he noticed her face was flushed, sweat sticking a stray wisp of hair to her forehead. There was something on her skirt—_

_Oh._

_The steel banister of the staircase groaned under the force of his white-knuckled grip as he watched her exit the deck. Nearby officers started to clear out of the way, sensing his fury. Hux came out of his office, perfectly coifed, but Ren could tell. The redheaded bastard had the sheen of pleasure on him, and the smug look on his face was worse than usual. Kylo always wanted to smash the General’s face into the ground until he could hear the crunch of bone, but now he didn’t think even that would satisfy him. One day he probably would kill the useless man, but there was only one target on his mind, and that slut was going to get what was coming to her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! They give me life. 
> 
> This chapter is for all of you who love General Fire Crotch. Don't worry Bucket Head Lovers--next chapter is all about you.
> 
> Most of this scene was actually added because of the response to RC's interactions with Hux, so know that I definitely account for what you tell me as I write. While most of the story is mapped out for continuity, I want to write something you enjoy, so tell me what that is! 
> 
> xoxoxo<3


	7. Seeding Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You cheat—” he bit down on your lip, then sucked at it. “Use tricks to distract me,” he moved from your mouth to your jaw, “make me obsessed.” He wasn’t talking to you, but growling into you.
> 
> And what those growls did to you. Your blood was burning you from the inside, heated by the warmth of his mouth on your neck. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re obsessed.”
> 
> He finally pulled his mouth away from your jugular, giving you your first look at his face. “You should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to wickedness for your support!

            MH3 had just finished applying a coat of moisturizer to your face when you heard a buzz at the door. Shirking your bathrobe back on to your shoulders, tying it snug, you walked over to the view portal. The sight of your visitor made your stomach turn. Before you could tell him you were retiring for the night and he could kindly fuck off, the blast door opened. You were certain it had been locked, but apparently, the rules didn’t apply to him.

            You gripped the silk robe firmly around you, trying to shield your vulnerability. “I don’t recall saying you could come in, Commander. Were you hoping to catch me in a state of undress again?”

            The giant bucket-head kept a safe distance as he squared up to you, but he didn’t say anything. For a long moment, he continued to clench and unclench his fists, trying to wring words out of the air. “Well?” It was late, and you had very little patience for any of his perpetual bantha shit.

            He seemed to finally settle on his intentions. “I'm going on a mission to Kiffa tomorrow morning. We will resume training after the mission.”

            Shit. Given the silence from the Supreme Leader, it wasn’t a surprise, but you hated hearing it from his apprentice. Did he come to gloat over your continued imprisonment in person? “A message would have been sufficient.” You didn’t hide the impatience in your tone. After avoiding one another for over a week, you still weren’t ready to face him, not when you were so exposed. You had just finished a shower, and there was nothing underneath your silk robe. That thought alone had stoked the fire in your… well, everywhere.

            “We need to discuss your behavior. In person.”

            “My behavior?” There was no fighting the look of indignation that burned on your face.

            He stood firm and fixed, almost at attention. “Yes. It has to be addressed if you're going to join the mission.”

            That was not something you anticipated and not something you were going to go along with willingly. He was probably dragging you along so he could torment you at his leisure. “How about we don’t talk about it, I don’t go on the mission, and instead you just leave?”

            “The Supreme Leader has already decided.” Well, there went any chance you had of avoiding the trip.

            “Fine. What did you want to discuss?”

            The helmet didn’t respond, instead walking across your room to investigate the baubles and personal effects strewn across your dresser. He started to pick things up at random, bringing them up to the slits of his visor to investigate. “Ren, either say something or leave.” You moved to him, snatching a gold comb out of his hand. “Leave my things alone.”

            A gloved hand caught your wrist as you went to return the hair ornament to its rightful place. “This is your problem. You lack respect.” You could never grow accustomed to the edge he managed to conjure through the vocal modifier.

            You jerked your hand back as his grip eased. “I lack respect? You’re the one who came in here and started rummaging through my shit!”

            “You’re a vain creature that views everything else beneath you! I am a Commander and the Supreme Leader’s apprentice. What makes you think you can defy me?” You had tried to move away from him, but he was so massive that all he had to do was turn and he was crowding into your space again. “The Supreme Leader sees it too. You may use cheap tricks, but nothing about you is special.”

            “If I’m so useless, if I’m so clearly powerless, why did you run away?”

            The voice behind the helmet hitched, “You used cheap tricks! That’s all you can do, you pathetic slut!”

            You were sick of that insult, particularly because every man who seemed to accuse you with it loved when you were a ‘slut’ for him. “You’re the one who lost to ‘cheap tricks.’ I am willing to do whatever it takes to succeed for the Supreme Leader. I don’t run away like an entitled brat when I lose.”

            “Just because I have some dignity doesn’t mean I lost.” You rolled your eyes at that response. Just like a child, he was going to make any excuse to avoid accountability for his own actions. At least you owned up to your shit. “Though it is true: you seem very willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.”

            You turned your back to him, pushing aside the urge to throw your fist into the base of his sternum like Phasma had shown you. “I will not apologize for following the Supreme Leader’s teachings.” Ren seemed to think he was the only one close to the Supreme Leader, but you knew your Master better than almost anyone. Snoke would probably applaud your resourcefulness, your merciless nature, and mock Ren for being so weak-willed. Maybe Ren was perfectly aware of that fact and was trying to hide his shame. Pathetic.

            He finally yelled at you: “So Snoke told you to fuck Hux?”

            The realization felt like dropping out of hyperspeed without warning. You were convinced that you were simply in some power struggle, that he was just a child who didn’t like losing. Everything he did marked a man desperate for control, for dominance, but you had forgotten one of the symptoms of a man with a need for control. Ren wasn’t simply angry at you for your actions against him, he was jealous.

            The fucking nerve of him.

            You spun around to face him again. “That is none of your kriffing business.” You wouldn’t have even needed to go to Hux if the man in front of you hadn’t boxed you into a corner. And if you for some reason decided you wanted the obnoxious redhead in your bed, no one was going to tell you otherwise.

             Almost nothing existed in the space between you at that point except rage. It was difficult to tell where his ended and yours began. You could hear him sneering behind the mask when he spoke. “You really are a slut. Sucking my dick and then fucking another man. How many people have you spread your legs for on this ship, I wonder?” The filth of his words made you shudder.

            Glaring, you inched closer, trying to bring yourself to your full height, ignoring how easy it would be for him to kill you without moving a muscle. “I can ‘spread my legs’ for whomever I please. If I had known you were going to be such a jealous prick about it, I wouldn’t have made you cum.” You sneered at him.

            He practically shrieked. “Jealous? You think I’m jealous?”

            “You’re absolutely transparent. Like a fucking child.”

            He moved closer towards you, visibly shaking. “The only thing transparent here, Counselor, is that you need to learn to respect your betters.”

            “From who, Commander? A man who’s undone by a little head?” You didn’t have to raise your voice. He could have his anger; all you needed was contempt.

            “I’m sick of your mind games!” He was snarling to the point that you imagined a rabid foam would begin to dribble out.

            You wanted to drive him out. To make him see he had no control. “Then stop trying to play a game you’ll lose.”

            “Shut up or I will make you!”

            “How pathetic. You’re so wound up; I can’t believe it was so easy to get under your skin.” The durasteel wall behind you ended your subconscious steps back. You didn’t care.

            “I said shut up!”

            “Guess I can’t be surprised. A grown man that hides behind a mask? You’re probably too ugly to fuck without it—”

            The sharp pop of breaking clasps followed by the clamor of metal colliding with metal was the only warning you had before lips were smashed against yours. Gloved hands grabbed your wrists and ground them into the durasteel wall above you until the small bones within popped. His actions were too violent to be considered anything so affectionate as a kiss. He was a beast gnashing teeth against the bars of his cage, and you weren’t letting him out. You didn’t know if you would be able to put him back in.

            “You cheat—” he bit down on your lip, then sucked at it. “Use tricks to distract me,” he moved from your mouth to your jaw, “make me obsessed.” He wasn’t talking to you, but growling into you.

            And what those growls did. Your blood was burning you from the inside, heated by the warmth of his mouth on your neck. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re obsessed.”

            He finally pulled his mouth away from your jugular, giving you your first look at his face. “You should.”

            You weren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t the face in front of you. Pale skin, dotted with freckles and moles. High cheekbones, a sloping jawline, and a long, large nose. Full, big lips, soft and pink. Eyes that you couldn’t definitively say were hazel, amber, or simply the richest brown. Maybe they were all at once. All surrounded by thick, raven hair. It was a face that sat at the exact intersection of interesting and attractive. A face that you wouldn’t stop to admire, but instead the type that you would have walked past and three steps later looked over your shoulder to marvel at. And the longer you looked at it, the more you could feel a blush creep across your own features.

            “What? Am I too ugly to fuck, Counselor?”

            He didn’t wait for your reply. Instead, he brought his body down on yours, flattening you against the wall, and he leaned over to bite at your neck again. When his hand released yours, you attempted to move your arms down, either to push him away or bring him closer, but you couldn’t. The Force. If anything, that should have constituted cheating. Unoccupied hands ran down your arms, pushing the loose sleeves down over your skin until they reached your shoulders and began moving down your thin silk robe. Sparks shot through you as his massive hands skimmed across your nipples, down to the tie at your waist. He ripped it open.

            Ren stepped back a few steps, taking in the sight of your body. “Fuck,” you watched him palm his bulge, licking his lips. The open robe fell just along the sides of your breasts, displaying your pebbled nubs and the valleys of your skin. Conscious of his hungry gaze, you squeezed your thighs together, trying to hide the arousal you were certain was there.

            Reaching out, he placed one of his massive paws on your stomach, stretching his fingers to span across the smooth flesh there while he continued to rub his covered cock. He skimmed his hand over your flesh, outlining your waists and hips, then cupping your breasts. His other hand joined as he made gloved circles over your perked nipples, making you shiver. You couldn’t stop the slight moan as he rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers, sending liquid heat to pool in your belly. He brought his face to yours, his voice husky, “You know I can take whatever I want.”

            With that he dropped his hands to your thighs, kneeling, forcing them apart. The sight made him inhale sharply. “You’re so wet.” His observation was one of both wonder and surprise, so unlike the self-confidence of Hux. You tried to pull your legs together, ashamed of how aroused you were, but his grip didn’t budge. “I want to know why.” His indescribable eyes searched yours.

            You couldn’t hold his gaze. “None of your fucking business.”

            You were suddenly scooped up, your thighs made to balance across his, lifting your back off the wall as he leaned over you again. A gloved hand slipped along your folds, teasing your entrance. “You’re going to tell me.” He started circling his finger around your clit in slow, deliberate motions. You made a needy groan, savoring his attention, but you refused to speak. You weren’t going to let him beat you at your own game.

            His other hand started pulling at your nipple, a shock of pain and pleasure. “I don’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking.” You could hear his gloved fingertips dip into your slit to drag more moisture across your bud, a wet slosh and swill between your bodies.  His breathing was heavy in your ear, commenting on how wet you were under his breath as he moved to grab your thighs and ass. The swirls around your clit increased in pressure and speed, then changed in direction and shape, never giving you the constancy you needed, but edging you closer to orgasm regardless. You canted your hips against his fingers, aching to feel more of him.

            There was no buzz to indicate an intrusion, but as promised, he seemed to detect exactly what you needed, pressing down just so. Your moans mirrored his attentions; insistent and hungry. “Beg me.” You almost gave into his direction, stifling a plea by clamping down on your lip. Your resistance didn’t seem to deter him as he kept stroking round and round your pearl, messing about in your dripping slick. You closed your eyes, stars beginning to dance behind your eyelids, white heat bubbling up from your core.

            Just as you could feel yourself slipping over the horizon, his hands ceased their attention, scooping under your thighs and spreading you wide against the wall. Being denied so abruptly, while also being splayed open was excruciating. “Fucking stars, no!” you keened as your body spasmed involuntarily. The intensity of coming so close to the edge pulled you taut like a string, but with none of the pleasure of release to accompany it, it was just that: intensity. It hurt, but it hurt good.

            Before you could demand an explanation of him, Ren lifted you off the wall, releasing his force hold on you. “You won’t cum unless I say so.” His plush lips were on your again, this time invading your mouth with his tongue. You wanted to push him away, chastise him, but kriff, his kisses were intoxicating.

            In only took a few of his long strides to carry you over to the bed where he dropped you unceremoniously on the nerf-wool blanket. For a moment, you could breathe, but just as quickly he was on you again. Stitched seams dragged across every inch of your skin, played with your nipples until you were certain they were bruised.  Soon they trailed south again, back to your throbbing cunt, to tease your clit. Your hands tangled into his thick dark hair in an attempt to pull him closer. You grieved when his delicious lips left yours, but only until they closed around one of your nipples. He suckled at it like hard candy, salving his earlier injury as a thick finger started to delve into your core.

            You couldn’t resist. “Ren...” The man in question abandoned his nursing to look into your eyes, arresting your gaze as he made his last, long, deliberate licks across the buds. You trembled.

            Instead of recognizing your unspoken pleas, he moved lower, positioning himself between your legs on the bed, until he was resting on his knees, watching his digit move in and out. “So wet.” He pulled the digit out of you and close to his face so he could investigate the contents. Pressing his thumb to the pad of his finger, you both marveled at the string of glossy slick that ran between them; your cunt was sopping. Sopping for _him_. Not satisfied with the sense of sight, he moved his beautiful face down and buried it in between your thighs.

            “Oh stars!” His plump lips and tongue dragged along your folds and entrance as his long nose bumped into your already sensitive clit. Your hands stayed tangled in his thick locks, trying to drag those perfect lips to your needy bud. “I told you, Counselor—you have to beg me to come. A tasty cunt won’t change that.” The force user was filthier than you had imagined, so you didn’t expect when he started spearing your pussy with his tongue. Even though it couldn’t fuck you like his fingers, or the thick cock you craved, the spongy surface of the muscle created sweet friction as it pulled along your opening. You squirmed, wrenching for the release he previously dangled in front of you.

            Again, perfectly in sync with your desires, he dragged his tongue up to flick and nurse at your throbbing clit. You dared to look down your belly at him and found the imperceptible irises focused on your every reaction, intent on learning exactly how to make you come undone. The intensity of his stare went right to your core, and you were certain he could feel the fresh wave of arousal spill out of you, ready for him to siphon away.

            His eyes rolled back and fluttered and the low growl that thrummed against your sensitive nerves made you buck against him. His mouth plowed into your pussy, tilling your flesh up and around, making it clench and flutter in response. When you tried to grind against him, to ride his savage mouth, a hand clamped down, holding you firmly against the bed. It was a silent admonishment: he was going to pleasure you, and you were going to take it.

            Your body was arched off the bed, the sensation of his tongue pulling the length of your spinal column till the vertebrae were rigid against each other. He had pulled your thighs over his shoulders, making it easy to move between fucking down into your entrance with his tongue and lavishing your clit with sucking kisses. You were back at the edge, moaning and swearing, not caring if the officers on your hall heard. Your thighs began to quake around his head, and you almost ripped his hair out.

            Delirious moans quickly turned despondent as he pulled his mouth away just as you were about to tip over the edge. There was no pain like it, and your empty cunt started pushing your juices out in defiance. “You still haven’t learned your lesson.” He traced his tongue on your thighs and along your labia, a cruel tease of what could be. “I ordered you to beg. You _will_ obey me.”

            Propping up on your elbows, you wanted to spit at him. “You’re a kriffing asshole Ren—” He made a long lick from your taint to your aching nub, cutting you off as your hips rutted involuntarily.

            “I am teaching you respect,” He smirked.

            Vexation and lust warred inside you, but pride won out. “You’d have to fucking earn my respect first.”

            Faster than you could react, he had pulled you off the bed and into his lap, pinning you against his chest by a vice grip on your neck. “I bet you respect this,” his other hand ground you down against his bulge, massive underneath you. The grip around your neck was tight enough to make black spots appear in the corner of your eyes. “But I don’t think even a slut like you can take my cock without working up to it.” The hand on your hip slipped down in between your thighs and started playing with your clit. You almost screamed from the sensitivity, catching a whine in your closed mouth. “I didn’t quite catch that, Counselor.” There was so much venom in his tone, you would likely dissolve if he spoke again.

            Slipping past your clit to your soaked folds, he roughly penetrated you with three leather fingers. No amount of lubrication could have readied you for his subjugating assault. Your entrance was so swollen from being denied that it stung from the strain, unprepared for the thick digits. The angle of his hand had him pushing hard against your g-spot, even more intense as you were trapped between his choking grip and his bucking hips. And despite your vexation, you couldn’t help but savor how full you felt. “I bet you would beg on my cock, but you don’t deserve it.”

            Three gloved fingers kept a steady rhythm, stroking your inner walls, as the heel of his hand ground against your clit. You were shivering, desperate for release. “You must be aching to cum—pussy’s taking my fingers so well.” Those full lips dragged along your neck and sucked at your earlobe. He released your neck to roll your nipple between his fingers as he continued to thrust along your bare ass. “Just dripping for me. Want to cum on my fingers, don’t you?” You were so close, skirting the edge of madness and shattering delight. Fuck your pride.

            “Please,” you whispered. Even though keeping him deep inside you was your new reason for existence, you weren’t accustomed to begging.

            He bit at your earlobe again, the arm not preoccupied with finger fucking you snaking down your stomach. “Please what?”

            The deep, primeval roll of his voice was starting to drive you crazy. If only it was enough. “Please—please let me cum.”

            “Who do you want to make you cum,” he demanded through heaving breaths.

            Whatever shame or restraint that had previously kept you at a whisper was gone. Your desire was making you heady, undone. “You, Ren! Fuck! Please let me cum, Ren! I need to cum!”

            His response was to drive his fingers even harder into you. Instead of just grinding against you with tantalizing pressure, his other hand joined to roughly stroke and circle your clit into subjegation. Nerves stripped raw from his game of teasing and edging, the way he touched you was a volatile mixture of sensations. You keened, squirming against his crotch, your nails digging into where you were grabbing at his arms. Wet, sloppy noises came from the between your thighs, a delectable auditory accompaniment to the way he was delving into your pussy. The room swelled with the symphony of your filth: him purring your name, your panting breaths and moans, and the squelch of gloved fingers pushing slick in and out of your cunt.

            “You’re so close, aren’t you? You need it.” You nodded your head furiously, pleas spilling from your lips. The tension of being denied over and over again, of blood pooling into your clit and along your lower lips, was becoming unbearable.

            “Fuck, Ren, I’m going to cum!” Finally, finally, you would get some release.

            Your name was hardly indistinguishable through his feral growl. “Going to come for me?”

            “Yesfuckyesyesyes—” Everything slipped out of focus except for the juncture of your thighs, a tightly wound spring ready to come undone. The telltale quake of your thighs, your moans turning into screams: he was making you cum harder than you had in any memory.

            “What a shame,” a malicious chuckle against your ear barely caught your attention.

            His hands pulled away, but you were already past the point of no return. _NONONONONONONONONO!_ You weren’t certain if you were making sounds, or what they even were. You only knew that you were in absolute agony. Ren gripped your wrists, holding them up beside your head, keeping you from touching yourself. Your hips bucked into nothing, your ruined orgasm wracking your body with pain and emptiness. Tears welled up in your eyes as you cursed and squirmed in the monster’s lap.

            “Why? Fucking fuck, why?!,” You groaned, chest heaving. Your pussy pulsed in rage and denial. He finally dropped your wrists, your orgasm impossible to salvage, regardless of the use of your hands.

            Finally having his fill of torturing you, he flipped you off of his lap and back onto your bed, a writhing mess. You blinked up at him, your body still twitching. Your gaze was met with a sneer, but not the self-satisfied one you anticipated. It was dark, foreboding, like a red sky across a morning sea.

            Replacing his helmet, you heard the hiss of locks resetting as an echo from a different world. The throbbing clench of your cunt was unforgiving and overwhelmed anything from the outside world. “This is what you deserve. If you're going to use cheap tricks, I’m going to pay you in kind.” He leaned forward, letting one hand rest on the mattress as the cold muzzle of his mask dragged along your tear-stained cheeks. “I’ll leave you obsessed.”

            The devious specter blew through the blast door without another word, leaving you naked and wrecked on the bed. You wished the lights would shut off, to hide you from your shame, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t even find the energy to command them off. So you stayed there, broken, for an unknowable amount of time.

            The ache between your thighs kept you from sleeping. Every time you tried to drift off, away from the isolated spacecraft, it throbbed, threatening you. You knew you needed to cum, to give yourself room to breathe, but you were terrified of touching yourself. Terrified of how much it would hurt to coax an orgasm out of your body after Ren’s abuse. For a man who supposedly practiced celibacy in a past life, he had played you like an instrument, plucking at strings you didn’t realize were there. And now you were in absolute discord.

            Hesitantly, you slid your fingers down to your foldssticky and raw. Even gentle touches were uncomfortable, you were so tender, but you had to. You started making clinical circles around your clit, praying you would come soon. And when you finally did, you imagined eyes of illusive brown watching you come undone at his command. "Ren."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my orgasm-denial kink. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for your comments and likes. I hope this porn is a suitable offering of gratitude. Please let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions! And any good synonyms for "deperate" because I am running out.


	8. Knights of Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I see you still don’t like flying in space, Princess.” You turned up to see one of the knights hovering above you. He was almost as massive as Ren, towering high above you with a long overcoat that pooled down from a mask reminiscent of a skull. You couldn’t hear the voice through the vocal modifier, but there were very few who would dare to call you that. Someone who knew your past...

 

 “I promise you, Captain, I would be at training if I could, but my monthly cycle is rather… disruptive today.”

That was a lie. You hadn’t had a monthly cycle in ages. Your regular implants made sure of that. There just didn’t seem to be a better excuse for you to be icing your crotch in the early hours of the morning and electing to finally skip PT.

It was pretty humiliating.

Besides, you were expected on the hangar bay at 1100 hours so a giant man-child could drag you across space for the hell of it. The more time you had to ice and apply an anti-inflammatory gel to your abused pussy, the better.

 By the time you left for said terrible adventure, you could almost walk without a slight limp. If the stars were with you—because the Force was clearly not—no one would notice your mild wincing and the way you tried to keep any and all pressure from your lady-bits. MH3 packed your bags as you dictated, and sent you on your unmerry way.

 The hangar bay was usually one of the noisiest parts of the ship, but it was eerily tense and hushed when you arrived. Normally, such a decrease in volume was reserved for full inspections by high command, but both Phasma and Hux were nowhere to be seen, and operations seemed to be normal. Even Ren could only cause the kind of tension you felt when he was destroying part of the ship, and you didn’t hear the telltale raucous of that, either. No, this was something new. The hairs on the back of your neck needled.

 You slung your travel pack closer to your shoulder. Whatever it was couldn’t possibly be worse than your impending trip. Kiffu was notoriously rich with vegetation (read: muggy and itchy jungle), predominantly governed by clans (read: lawless), and populated almost entirely by the native Kiffar (read: not friendly to outsiders). Barring a surprise secret spa in the middle of the jungle, you were probably going to spend the entire time hoofing it through mud and shit and—given Ren’s constant sunny disposition—corpses. Thus, you opted for lightweight leggings and a tunic with army issue boots and vest. You were a little chilly on the ship, but you would be comfortable where you were headed.

 Mechanics and officers seemed to be giving your intended destination wide berth, and as you got closer, you saw why. Seven well-armed figures clad in dark armor with eerie masks that matched their commander’s loitered outside the Command Shuttle. The Knights of Ren. You had never met them in person. Force users surpassed only by their master, they were rumored to level cities and slaughter hundreds, if not thousands across the galaxy. Titans of war. And you were about to get on a ship with them.

 Ren was nowhere to be seen, and despite your hatred of the man, you suddenly wished he would stalk up behind you as he usually did. You didn’t want to be alone with the warriors. Normally, you wouldn’t hesitate to approach, to assert yourself, but you could feel the visceral, lethal energy they emanated. And they were all so…quiet. Just looming in the sort of dreadful manner that brought to mind images of a butcher among a herd of nerf.

 “We don’t have time for you to stand there and gape, Counselor.” It seemed that in this case, you didn’t have to speak his name to summon the dark god. Ren’s long robes waved through the air as he stomped past you, pushing you forward when he brushed your shoulder. The unexpected contact made you tense. “Get on board.” He didn’t look back at you as he gave the order. His helmet was back in its usual place, but all you could think about was the handsome face from the night before. The way his lips captured your entire body, and his indescribable eyes that surveyed their new dominion from between your thighs. Kriff.

 “Just waiting for you, Commander,” you mumbled, following behind, every step stiff and uneven. The knights barely acknowledged you as you hurried up the ramp behind Ren, only recognizing your existence by not stepping on you as you boarded. The Command Shuttle was much nicer than most military transport ships, including a galley in addition to the few bunk cabins and storage lockers. There was even a small trauma medic cabin, you know, just in case you got your leg shot off on this absolutely unnecessary adventure. As you moved forward to explore cockpit, you noticed that there was not, however, a crew. That was an important part of a ship, usually. At a minimum, you were going to need a pilot.

 You turned to make an inquiry but were cut short by the Commander and one of his knights taking the two pilot seats. “Get back in the cabin. We’ll be preparing for take-off momentarily.” Again, he didn’t even bother to look at you. You were about to be stuck in a ship piloted by an unstable bucket-head all the way to the inner rim, and he was just planning on leaving you with a bunch of angry looking Force users without introduction. It was shaping up to be a really delightful excursion. Pfassk, you hated space.

 Settling into one of the launch chairs, as close to the cockpit as possible, you could feel the knights looking at you as you strapped in. You wondered if they knew who you were, what Ren had told them. Probably only unpleasant things. You tried not to think about it as you felt the ship lurch off the hangar and out past the walls of the Finalizer, not even daring to look out a viewport. MH3 had encouraged you to take a sensory suppressant with you, but you didn’t want to appear weak in front of Ren, and refused the little capsule. No, you would have to feel every shift in speed and direction during the flight. Even after the shuttle had comfortably settled into superluminal transit, you stayed in your chair, trying to still the churning in your belly.

 “I see you still don’t like flying in space, Princess.” You turned up to see one of the knights hovering above you. He was almost as massive as Ren, towering high above you with a long overcoat that pooled down from a mask reminiscent of a skull. You couldn’t hear the voice through the vocal modifier, but there were very few who would dare to call you that. Someone who knew your past.

 “Mero?”

 The giant pushed back his overcoat and removed his skeletal helmet. You were greeted by what you were certain was one of the most handsome faces in the galaxy—a face you had spent countless hours studying. Almond-shaped eyes filled with the sweetest dark chocolate irises and a strong square jaw like an old Coruscant sculpture. Big, pouty pink lips that you had fantasized about kissing thousands of afternoons. And a smile so brilliant you felt it from head to toe, even after ten years.

 “The one and only.” Yep. Head to toe.

 However long it took to get out of your seat straps was too long, as you desperately escaped to leap into the embrace of one of your oldest friends. “What the stars are you doing here? I thought you were going to be an officer?” You squealed in delight as he spun you around, the natural pattern of your greeting. So much and so little had changed. He still favored bleaching his coarse, dark hair to the color of a dwarf star, but there were a few lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

 The other knights in the galley removed their helmets and heavy outer robes as well: three more humans, one Pantoran, and one Na’gai, all male. Mero gingerly returned your feet to the ground. “I was for a short time, after the  Academy , but Master Ren found me at an outpost and offered me a chance to reach my full potential.” He pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, a familiar gesture. The two of you couldn’t stop marveling at one another, how time had done nothing to change the way waves of energy between you perfectly harmonized. Both of you were darker, harder than you had been at the Academy, but you could only imagine the vibrancy that bloomed in the darkness. You were eager to find out.

 “Full potential?” Growing up, you had known that Meru was Force-sensitive—one more impressive thing about him—and that the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker had attempted to take him for training when he was young, but his parents had other intentions for their first-born. You were one of the few he told, one day when the two of you had been researching religious civilizations. Those that worshipped the Force.

“He trained me so I could serve the galaxy through the First Order.” Your hands still lingered close to each other’s bodies, neither fully believing the other was corporeal. It wasn’t romantic or sexual (well, not entirely for you) but like the past had flickered in from some unseen portal. Then he did touch you, brushing his thumb over the first order badge on your training vest. “So now you have to tell me why you’re here, Princess.”

“Mero, how are you always so full of surprises?” The Pantoran man walked up, breaching the separate dimension the two of you had created. “Though I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you know her. You seem to know every beautiful woman in the galaxy.” He took your hand and pressed his lips gently to your knuckles.

The gesture hardly phased you, but you were pleased the knights seemed to be more cordial than their masks and armor suggested. “Good to know he is still a playboy. What about you?” You lifted a brow. If Ren was going to leave you unsupervised, you were going to try to make friends. Better than being at his mercy without allies.

“My name is Bosrek Iggson, but you may call me Bose. Behind me are Isaabroc, Cal, Kerrick, and Davi.” The four other men nodded. The Na’gai, Kerrick, seemed suspicious, but only for a moment. “We are the Knights of Ren, and we are pleased to have you with us, Counselor.” He gave a small flourish of a bow. The misty blue of his skin sharply contrasted golden irises and hair, and the thick traditional lines of Pantoran tattoos striped his forehead and chin.

“Bose is thrilled to finally have someone to bask in his glory.” Mero’s arms snaked around your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze.

The Pantoran gave an exaggerated pout. "Nothing wrong with enjoying an audience.” The way they ribbed each other almost made you forget how lethal they were. How lethal the man holding you so lovingly was. “So, Counselor, how do you and Mero know each other?”

An ancient stone institute that sprawled along a crystal blue lake came to mind. Massive lecture halls contrasted with garden pavilions that reminded you of home. Mountains of archives and pots of tea. Grass tickling against your cheek and the breeze ruffling his white hair. “We studied at the Andrasha Academy of Policy and Economics together.” 

 Bose seemed to have a flair for the dramatic if the shock on his face was any indication. “You get admitted to one of the finest institutions in the galaxy Mero, and then you also are blessed with such a lovely underclassman? Your life is far too charmed.”

Mero ruffled your hair before walking over to the kitchen. “Princess wasn’t an underclassman—we were the same year. This upstart here entered the academy at thirteen.” He managed to fish out packets of instant coffee. This ship really did have everything. He tossed a smirk over his shoulder as he started looking for a boiler. “She even had the gall to outrank me on occasion.”

“I’m pretty sure I regularly outranked you.” You smirked, sitting at the galley table with the other knights, Bose taking a seat beside you.

“You also did nothing but study, Princess. I learned to live a little.” Yeah, he did. It always stung how he would have the most beautiful women and men on his arm, how he would skip lectures and projects for a romp in the library. Yet, he never invited you.

“You joined the academy at thirteen? That’s quite a feat. Are we in the presence of a genius?” The shorter, slender man with long brown hair, Davi, interjected, a conspiratorial grin on his face.

You pointed at Mero, “As he said, I did nothing but study. Nothing particularly spectacular.”

The four of you eased into a pleasant conversation, Davi and Bose asking questions about your time at the Academy, what Mero was like before joining the Knights. The two of them were hesitant to talk about themselves, however, deflecting conversation back to your adolescence and your current work with the Order. The other three never even chimed in, keeping a safe distance, Kerrik eventually leaving to take a nap. It became clear that they very rarely talked to anyone beyond their small unit, restricted to training at an undisclosable location or taking part in covert missions. The lingering sense of secrecy only made you itch to draw back the curtain more, but you suppressed the urge to dig deeper. Better not to risk the cordial relationship you were developing.

“What I want to know is why Mero keeps calling you ‘princess?’ That has to be an interesting story.”

You cut Mero off as he opened his mouth. “Well, I was the youngest so my classmates were all protective of me. I guess ‘princess’ was the least dehumanizing appellation they could come up with.” You could see the subtle skeptical look on Mero’s face out the corner of your eye, but you ignored it. When he didn’t follow up, you assumed he got the hint.

 Before Bose could utter the follow-up he seemed to be formulating, a stunning Zabrak woman emerged from the hull, with silken hair the color of midnight blue, cascading down her back. Her horns looked like a crown, but it was the intensity of her violet eyes that reminded you of royalty. Only her sharp tattoos and the raw scar that streaked across her cheek and lip suggested she was a warrior instead of an empress.  

Mero’s face brightened when she entered. You could always trust him to love beauty. “Iroki, you finished talking with the Commander?”

“He sent me back here to get her.” She turned her brilliant eyes to you. It was curious how a set of eyes could be so rich in color and intensity but betray no emotion. “He would like to speak with you up front, Counselor.” She didn’t introduce herself like the others. In fact, she didn’t spare you another word, stalking past you to deposit her helmet and robes. Sensing you would gain no further elucidation, you softly nodded goodbye to the knights and moved to the cockpit.

You turned sharply as soon as you entered, making sure to keep your back to the viewport. While it wasn’t the same as the dizzying kaleidoscope of hyperspace, the sight of the Commander’s face almost untethered you from reality. Twelve hours had not diminished the shock. Your eyes shot immediately to his full lips, remembering how they conducted a symphony of need and desire from the instrument of your body. Butterflies erupted low in your stomach at the memory. If only you had known what kind of power his face would have, you would have never let him take that mask off.

“Sit.” He didn’t look at you, instead inspecting flight instruments. Probably for the best, because you weren’t sure you could handle direct contact with those puzzling irises.

You folded your arms in front of you, declining to sit. No point in dragging out the conversation. “I was told you wanted to speak with me.”

“No.” He still failed to look at you.

“‘No’ what?” Suddenly, you did want him to look at you, wanted him to see the impatience in your glare. It was unfair that he could drag you around on a whim, force you into his presence, but never had to give you a fighting chance.

He tapped the panel to bring up a holographic star map, as if you weren’t obviously on auto-pilot.  Last time you checked, Kiffu was right off the Rimma Trade Route, not in some backwater quadrant. “I don’t want to speak with you.” His tone was flat, neither disparaging or inviting.

“So you dragged me up here because…?” You let the words hang in the air, waiting for some explanation to catch them. You didn’t know anything about the Zabrak woman, but she didn’t seem like the type who would lie to you in her first sentence. There had to be some reason Ren had summoned you

“Your interminable chatter seems to be a contagion even my trained knights aren’t immune to.” He didn’t like you being friendly with his knights. What did he think would happen if he left you with them?

“Congratulations on the vocabulary upgrade.” Ren snapped his head to you, finally. His nostrils flared and a blush was crisp on his pale skin. If it was that easy to conjure such a response, it was no wonder he wore a mask. His blush was the real contagion, though, as you felt color try to stowaway on your cheeky grin. That or his eyes were really that beautiful. “Well, I’ll tell the kids to keep it down. Apologies.” You moved to exit the cabin before you started bumbling around like an awkward teenager, but the door held firm.

“Sit.” And just as soon as you were lulled by his face into the illusion he was charming, Kylo Ren, insufferable man-child extraordinaire, was back in full force. Your attraction to him was as foolish as the notion that fighting him would be anything more than wasted energy.

You moved to sit in the co-pilot chair, but as soon as your backside touched the leather, you regretted your decision. The transparisteel viewport was open and you could see the vast cosmos hurtling past. The urge to jolt from the seat was only halted by your pride. Ren didn’t need another weapon against you. At first, you tried to look into the rushing void, like he did, but vertigo rocked your body. Balling your hands together in your lap, fingernails biting half-moons into your skin, you tried to fix your eyes downward. Even the streaks of light in your periphery made you nauseous. You shut your eyes tight. Space sucked and you hated it and you wanted to be back on Spira watching the sunset over the waves with a drink in your hand and sand, sweet fucking real sand and ground underneath your feet.

“Give me your hand.”

Hesitantly, you opened your left eye to glance towards the voice. In the space between the two seats, a black-gloved hand hovered, palm outstretched. You shut your eyes again and shook your head. Ren probably had some terrible plan, was going to use your vulnerability to torment you in some new way. That was why he had made you come on this stupid mission, because somehow he knew how much you hated space, how all your mind could think of was a piece of debris crashing into the viewport, the crack forming wide tendrils across until pieces started to pop away and the whole thing was bursting and you were being sucked outside the ship and into the vacuum to freeze, to suffocate, to shatter—

Your name. The voice called your name, and you could feel soft leather pressing against your temple.

“You’re safe.” Instead of a sharp tendril of electricity, you felt _warmth_.

“I’m safe.” It wrapped around you, removing the chill of space, placing you firmly back in the chair.

The voice continued. “You’re going to open your eyes—”

“No!”

Another surge of warmth pushed into you, flushing the panic from your veins. “You’re going to open your eyes, and you will know you are safe.”

No matter how much you wanted to stay in the dark, your eyes opened. The viewport was the same, indiscernible celestial bodies dashing past, but the panic was gone. You felt only calm. Calm, and a little sleepy. 

“How did you do that?” You marveled at the feeling, but also at the unexpected kindness. Was this the same man who abused you so regularly?

         Ren didn’t turn to look at you, instead focused again on the control panel and flight map. “It’s temporary, but it should last long enough for the flight.” His voice was uncharacteristically even, almost soothing. 

“Oh.”

 Only once had you ever considered the man beside you as polite, let alone anything more than a brute. Every action he took since you set foot on the _Finalizer_ had been to humiliate or abuse you. Even the way he pleasured you was an act of dominance. You had no idea what to make of his behavior. A dark part of you suspected that if you gave in to the ever-growing need to fall asleep, you would wake up in a ditch on a random planet, or not  wake up at all. 

His eyes flickered to you just briefly. “You can close your eyes if you want to.  The chair is comfortable enough to sleep in.”

The thought of the massive Force user asleep at the helm, trying to get his unruly limbs in a comfortable configuration made you chuckle. “Done it before, Commander?” you yawned.

Despite his best efforts, you watched the slightest smile pinch at his cheek before he smoothed it away. That would be a sight: his full lips wrapped around what was probably a lovely smile. You started to imagine it as your eyes drifted closed. 

 “Rest, RC.”

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

_  A wisp of hair had fallen across her sleeping face, and her nose twitched as the strands tickled along her skin. Touching her face would probably not wake her, Kylo reasoned, as he had given her some unknown assistance in dozing off, but he wasn’t willing to risk it. More accurately, he wasn’t willing to risk contact with her face. He missed her bright eyes, but their absence made it clearer that her beauty extended to all her features. No one’s skin should look so flawless and smooth, or have lips that invitingly soft. Lips that he knew tasted like honey and butter and were just begging to be sampled again. She was so still he could count her eyelashes without interruption if his eyes could ever venture beyond her mouth.  _

_  Instead, he shook his head and returned to the console panel. It had been a mistake to invite her into the cockpit, but the laughter she shared with his knights was more unbearable. And he could feel Mero’s connection to her, his knowledge of her, and it made Kylo angry. The last thing he needed was for his second in command to become distracted by the woman. Someone needed to have his head on his shoulders, and Kylo couldn’t count on himself. Last night had made that clear. _

_  Last night, Hux’s mind was easily breached when Kylo approached him at the Command Center. Memories of her upon the general’s lap, spread open, pleasuring him. Pleasure that Kylo knew was meant for him and him alone. When the third watch started, he went to find her, to make sure she understood that her behavior would no longer be tolerated. He had sworn  _ _ he _ _ wouldn’t succumb himself, not again, but she was practically designed to undo him.  _

_  As soon as he entered her chambers, his stare latched on to her damp curves, pert nipples poking against the thin robe. She was naked underneath the emerald silk, waiting for him to unwrap her. Her mouth spilled over with smart comments and razor-sharp insight, each word mashing his buttons until she finally unlocked every filthy desire he had. Kissing her had only made it worse. Ben Solo had never been a stranger to kisses, and Kylo Ren managed to tempt a stray technician or officer if he was feeling restless, but nothing had prepared him for her. The way her entire body responded to his, like binary stars orbiting one another, he had never needed anything as much as he needed her when she moaned against his mouth. But she continued to resist him, even when it was so obvious  _ _ that _ _ their bodies were formed from stardust for the singular purpose of becoming intertwined. Worse, she had mocked him. She had to be punished,  _ _ and _ _ so he did.  _

_  He denied her release over and over again to make sure she understood that he was in control, that her pleasure was only to come from him, and only when he chose. Hux would never be able to touch and tease her like Kylo could. The stupid ginger wouldn’t be able to play her body like he did: abusing her pretty clit, thoroughly fucking her hole with his fingers, and devouring her pussy until she was trying to ride his face. Perhaps if she hadn’t tasted so delicious, he would have let her feel his cock as well, but he couldn’t help himself. The taste of her slick reminded him of his favorite treat his mother made when he was little, one of cream and summer berries. He could have lapped it up all night, listening to her moan and whine under his attention, feeling her writhe under his arms until she was delirious with need. And when she finally begged for him, finally gave in, it took every ounce of control not to keep going, not to find out how his name sounded when she came for him. Just for him. _

_  Now she was vulnerable once again, soundly dozing beside him. And just like the night before, it was his doing. He would have never imagined her to have such a strange phobia. Her response had been unsettlingly violent, and as much as she infuriated him, he couldn’t watch her suffer. A bizarre impulse overcame him, the need to soothe her shivering body, to wrap her in his arms until she stilled and drifted off with sweet dreams. Holding her would be unacceptable, so he did what he could, using the Force to calm her, to put her to sleep. The woman he hated and coveted more than anything in the galaxy was peacefully sleeping at his side because he wasn’t brave enough to pull her into his arms. Kylo wasn’t sure  _ _ which _ _ was a greater sign of weakness: the desire  _ _ itself, _ _ or that he denied himself what he desired.  _

_  He dared to glance at her again, noticing how her neck oddly fell along her shoulder. It would probably cramp if she slept like that for the entire voyage.  _

 

* * *

 

 The corners of your eyes were dusted with sleep, the telltale sign of a good rest. And your neck wasn’t biting from nerve damage caused by sleeping in a chair. Actually, it seemed that you weren’t in a chair at all. You rolled over to find yourself on a bunk. Someone had moved you back into the cabin, and while you suspected Ren, even his uncharacteristic kindness before couldn’t make the gesture likely. You would have to figure out which of the knights had followed Ren’s command to put you to bed. 

 “Wake up, Princess, we’ve arrived.” Mero was standing in the door way , dressed but for his skull-helmet. That would have been something to wake up to. He was holding a steaming mug—hopefully coffee. The two of you had developed an unhealthy habit together at the  Academy , and you never managed to shake it. 

 As he moves closer, the familiar aroma pulled you off the bed. “Thank you, friend,” you yawned, reaching for the brew. The first sip knocked the sleep from your eyes, and the second had you moving to relace your boots. “Do I have you to thank for saving me from blisters?”

 “What?” His thick eyebrows furrowed. 

 You gestured to your now laced boot, “That’s why you took off my shoes, right?”

 “We’ve been apart for too long for me to trust your feet just yet. Besides—“

 “If you’re dressed,  Counselor, you need to be moving off the ship. You’ve had enough time to laze about.” Ren’s helmet was back in place as he entered the room. It became quickly apparent that the cabins on the Upsilon class shuttle were not designed to fit two giants and you. Mero must have decided your survival was less pressing than his discomfort and silently nodded before exiting. Although you hated being left with Ren, you couldn’t deny the crackle of the  Commander's aura was a pretty firm suggestion to the other man. “You appear to be ready to leave, or shall I inform my knights that the—“Princess,” was it?—still needs a few minutes to preen before we depart?”  His usual disdain dripped off the words.

 “And another cup of coffee, if you can manage it.” You made sure to make the loudest slurping sound possible. You weren’t sure if your blood sugar was low or if you were just feeling especially suicidal, but you had the audacity to smile across the rim of your mug as the helmet glared at you. 

 “Get. Off. The. Ship.” Those clenching and unclenching hands were so familiar. It was probably best to keep them from clenching around your neck. 

 “Of course, Commander.” You gulped the last of the mug before setting it down on the table, and preceded to waltz past  him. Maybe it was because you were so well-rested, but even his rage couldn’t  dampen  your mood.

 An arm shot across the cabin entryway, trapping you in the small room with the black mass. The muzzle of his helmet dipped down till it was level with your face, almost close enough to touch. You vaguely wondered what it would be like to kiss it. “Mind yourself, Counselor.” With that, he dropped his arm and stomped towards the exit. 

 It was dark when you emerged from the ramp, but the first glow of dawn colored the horizon periwinkle beyond a thick canopy of trees. From what you could see, you had landed in a small field surrounded by thick jungle. The air was muggy, but not unbearably hot, and the first avian calls were stirring to life around you. In the red floodlight of the ship you could make out the warriors, once again in their masks, and four ground speeders. 

 “Sleep well, Princess?” Bose gave your shoulder a friendly slap and motioned you to join them.

 “Davi will remain here with the ship to assist in evac should it be necessary. The rest of us will take the speeders to the mountain above the village, about a klick outside the perimeter. We should reach the town in roughly an hour. Since we landed here, we should catch the target unaware. You will not engage until ordered. According to our sources, this one has skill we rarely encounter.” The knights confirmed their orders and moved to the speeders, with Davi heading back onto the craft, his posture suggesting that he was probably going to sulk about being left out. You wondered if he would have joined had you not been there. If that was the case, you would be more than happy to stay on the ship.

 Mero had already settled onto the seat and his mask was pointed in your direction, but before you could join him you were intercepted. “You’ll ride with me.” Shrugging at your friend, you turned to follow the Commander. He settled at the front of the speeder, bringing it to life, but a thought stilled you. Since his helmet didn’t give him the complete range of motion necessary to glower at you over his shoulder through his visor, he turned his chest to yours. “Get on.”

 “How are we supposed to take a speeder through this jungle in the dark? I don’t see a scanner anywhere,” you gestured to the controls. “I would really prefer my final epitaph not read ‘Tried to ride a speeder through a jungle at night and hit a tree.’”

 He turned away from you, continuing his check of the speeder's schematics. “We’ll be fine.”

 Firmly planting your hands on your hips, you took a step further from him. “I wouldn’t ride this thing with the best pilot in the Order.”

 “You  _ are _  riding with the best pilot in the Order.” You turned to Bose, who clearly had been silently laughing at your exchange. At least someone was amused by this. Gesturing to Ren, Bose gave you an affirming nod. Well, that was a fact that was going to make him even more unbearable, you were sure of it.

 “Don’t make me tell you again, Counselor.”

 “I knew you were going to kill me someday, I just imagined it going differently,” you mumbled as you slung a leg over the side of the speeder behind him and settled onto the seat.

 The knight pulled his long robe to the side, then reached behind to pull your thighs flush with his. “How did you imagine me killing you?”

 You were glad the darkness masked the flush you were sporting. “Not like this.”

 “Well, if you don’t want your epitaph to read ‘Fell off the back of a speeder in the middle of a jungle because she was being a priss,’ you should hold on tight.” His massive hands grabbed where you were gingerly clutching at the side of his robe to wrap your arms low around his waist, bringing your chest flush with his back. You were certain your cheeks were glowing through the darkness. Satisfied that you were snug against him, Ren called out to the other knights. “Let’s move!”

 The speeder shot off into the dark, lights barely illuminating the jungle around you. You braced yourself for impact, squeezing your eyes tight, but it never came. Instead, the speeder dipped and swerved through the dark jungle, leaves barely grazing your thighs as it wove through the undergrowth.

 “How are you doing this?” Ren’s response was to tip the bike over at a sharp angle to miss an unseen object, making you squeeze against him harder.

 “Precognition. It is an ability learned through the Force,” you could hear him shout through the helmet. The smug bastard probably looked like the tooka cat that ate the bulabird when you pressed your cheek against his back as the two of you dipped and turned, first light fighting to meet the earth below.

 That sounded like a useful trick.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't pile on the smut _every_ chapter or then you wouldn't be thirsty for the next one! But don't worry, I'll keep the burn white-hot.
> 
> Thank you so much for your subscriptions and comments! I feel so loved every time I hop on, and it is keeping me writing like a madwoman. I love to hear your thoughts and feedback. As always, continued gratitude and praise to wickedness for her edits and feedback. You keep me going!


	9. Precognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally on the ground, the mission to Kiffu continues with an unexpected development. How will Kylo Ren handle it? For that matter, how will you?

 

          Golden dawn was finally filtering through the canopy as the speeder began to slow, and not a moment too soon. 

          The entire ride had been torture. You didn’t have Ren’s trained Force sensitivity, so you were whizzing through the dark with no way to adjust your sense of direction. You probably would have been sick if your adrenal glands weren’t running at full capacity. On more than one occasion, Ren had ‘accidentally’  _ almost _ run into a tree. At least that’s what he would say when the bike made a sharp turn or sudden stop, the jolt making you wrap around him tighter, sometimes lower on his stomach than appropriate. You might have believed it was an accident if it had happened once, but after the third time you were certain  that he was toying with you. 

          And despite all of that, you secretly enjoyed Ren’s company.

          The two of you seemed to be a fair distance from the other knights, and no one could have heard your bickering over the noise of the speeder anyways, but it had been nonstop. Ren made snide comments about how you needed to keep your hands to yourself, so you would retort that the First Order was doomed if he was their best pilot. You complained about how his awful driving was making you sick, so he bemoaned that he had brought such a priss along. If anyone had heard you they would have called the incessant back and forth what it was—flirting. You were driving through the jungle, at an unconscionable hour, with one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, flirting like teenagers. And physically? Ren was a nerf herder, but he was firm muscle between your thighs and under your hands, and the steady hum of the engine beneath you was encouraging your worst impulses. Maybe after the fourth unexpected jerk of the speeder, you let your arms hook low around his waist to little protest.

          As soon as the caravan stopped, you bounded off, relieved to finally have space between the two of you. Stars help you if he could tell how you had been physically responding. Around you, the knights began to dismount and adjust their massive armor and weapons. Somehow, no one had managed to hit anything in the darkness. The magic foresight granted by their study seemed to work, though you noticed a few leaves caught in helmets and robes as the warriors stowed their speeders under  the branches of  a small grove of gnarled trees. You could just see the large village below  in the distance past the thick  vegetation . The cluster of huts and structures wasn’t far  _ out _ so much as it was far  _ down _ . Apparently, Ren had meant to describe the path as a ‘cliff’ when he used the term ‘mountain.’ 

          Mero pulled a small sphere out of his robes and threw it down to the ground, the holomap of the area whirring to life. Ren joined him to review their location as the others checked munitions and gear. Your old friend hadn’t stated outright that he was Ren’s second in command, but it was becoming obvious from the way they interacted, how the other knights followed Mero’s lead. It wasn’t clear if that was a distinction based on a level of ability, but given Mero’s personality, he could be one of the least Force adept in the group and you imagined they would respect his natural charm and creativity. Everyone wanted to follow Mero, and not just because it meant they could look at his spectacular ass.

          From what you could see of the holomap, the party would take a path down and around the village to the target’s hut, avoiding conflict with any townspeople if possible. Ren checked in with Davi over his commlink to confirm no one had approached the ship and that radar had remained quiet, which seemed to be the case.

          Scooping up the holomap, Ren began directing the group. “Cal, Isaabroc—stay with the speeders. I doubt the villagers or anyone else will wander up here, but I would rather have you as a backup.”  The two nodded. “Also, Isaabroc, set up a small perimeter here, just to make sure there are no traps set by the locals. Find any, let us know. We’ll keep an eye out for additional ones.” He turned to the Na’gai with the checkered helmet plate, “Kerrick, scout ahead. If you notice anything unusual, report back. Otherwise, stay at the edge of town. The rest of us will continue to the village.” You watched the rouge dart up into the tree line, quickly lost among the shadows.

          The remaining five of you started down a steep game trail covered by thick trees, too narrow for anything other than a single-file line. The drop wasn’t absolutely lethal, but if you fell you would probably collide with more branches and tree trunks than a First Order medical officer would advise.  You had wound up just behind Ren in the line with Mero at your back. No villagers or locals seemed to be on the path, so it looked like you really would be able to just wander into the village without incident. The Commander was  seemingly capable of strategy. 

          “Why did the Supreme Leader say I had to come?” The question has been burning under your skin like an awful insect bite, growing more unbearable  and irritating as you neared the village . You didn’t expect a response, but maybe if you said it out loud, you would find some relief. 

          “A lesson in respect.” Against all odds, your rival responded. The response, however, did little to answer your question and instead had your mind drifting to your last night on the  _ Finalizer _ . You couldn’t imagine him showing you a similar lesson in the middle of the muddy jungle or in front of his knights. Then again, before that night, you would never have imagined him capable of that type of lesson in the first place. Despite your best efforts, warmth crept into the tips of your ears and between your thighs. His long strides carried him further away from you and the conversation. 

          You hiked a little faster until you were almost stepping on his heels. “How so?”

          A rough sigh  filtered through his helmet. “You have made it clear that you lack respect for the Force, or our efforts to maintain galactic supremacy through it. It is time you observed it first-hand.” His response was surprisingly logical. Something about being away from the ship and instead navigating a potential combat zone on the ground changed his behavior. He was more controlled and  rational,  finally at ease.

          Ren’s commlink started buzzing, either from Isaabroc or Kerrick, and whatever was said had the Commander stopping abruptly. Too abruptly for you to notice as you pondered the man’s behavior, because as soon as you collided with him, you reflexively stepped back, but connected with nothing but air. You were about to get very friendly with the Kiffar foliage.

          You prayed that Mero would catch you and spare you the broken ribs and leg, but before you could blink, you had been snatched up. “I don’t think I should have to remind you to pay attention, RC.” A large arm was wrapped around your chest, a leather glove gripping over your breast. Not Mero, but Ren. Because almost falling off the mountain side wasn’t humiliating enough. His arm slowly roamed down from your chest to circle low on your waist, clutching you to him before setting you on the footpath. “I don’t have time to  _ obses _ s over your safety.” His word choice was unmistakable; he was fanning the flames between your thighs, making you crave more than a possessive embrace. Thankfully, the only person who could see your blush turned back to face forward.

          “Kerrick says the village is quiet, looks unoccupied.” 

          His second in command called over your head. “Perhaps they caught wind of the Command Shuttle?”

          You could feel Ren’s pace pick up. Not so much that he was alarmed, but suspicious. “No, they would have come looking for us. If they have outright abandoned the village, then something has happened.”

          “Yeah, they figured out you were coming,” your mumble wasn’t sarcastic or derivative, just simply stating facts. With a reputation of decimating populations, the villagers would have run, not walked, if they knew the Knights of Ren were on their way. 

          “Probably,” he didn’t look back when he responded. 

          The edge of the village was marked by a guard tower, but it appeared to be unmanned. Where you expected to be sounds of a bustling village starting off a new day, there was only the continued hum of the jungle. Kerrick was waiting for you just outside a crude, low wall, not even bothering to disguise himself as he approached his Commander. “Report?”

          “Just as I said, the village is empty. There is lesser life present, and I can feel the energy of movement from some time recently, but I can feel no sentient life in the Force, only beasts. If anyone remains, they have concealed themselves.”

          Ren considered his scout’s words for a moment. “It is very possible he could. We’ll search the village but don’t spread out far. If this man is here, he is dangerous.” Dangerous. Whatever constituted dangerous to them definitely meant lethal to you. And you were so looking forward to not getting shot. 

          The knights paired off, leaving you to creep behind Ren as he moved towards the center of the village. He would force open random huts to investigate, but the only hostile you found was an old house cat who hissed at the Commander before  scampering off. Everything was empty. If it wasn’t for the penned animals outside and a few smoldering fires in the huts you would have assumed the village was uninhabited. Based on the dim glow of the remaining embers, you would guess that they had been gone for over an hour. No one had been there since the shuttle landed, or possibly even before then. What happened to everyone? Were you really alone? 

          You got your answer in the village square. The open cobblestone expanse was filled with abandoned market stalls circulating what must be the town well. Sitting on the edge of the water repository was a single middle-aged Kiffar. He was short but stocky, with thick dreadlocks streaked with grey and bright red facial tattoos. The way he picked at his nails and gave you a slow, disinterested expression, you could tell he had been waiting for you. If the fact that he had hidden from the Knights of Ren, and Kylo Ren himself didn’t scare you, the  plethora of  knives strapped to his body and the large bowcaster resting beside him did. 

_           Don’t show fear. _ A soft warm buzz passed through you.

          “Tofar, I presume?” Ren’s voice was even through his helmet, but he kept himself between you and the unknown man. 

          The Kiffar nodded. “Kylo Ren. You and your knights are not welcome in this village. Leave, and I will not kill you.” He didn’t pick up the bowcaster. Either foolish overconfidence or another sign of a very real threat. If he was here, where was the rest of the village? Were they on another path up the mountain, about to run into Isaabroc and Cal, or someplace else in the jungle? Would they come back with reinforcements?

          Ren walked forward, his arms in the air. You wished you knew something about the older man to understand the Commander’s behavior—it was frighteningly out of character. “We’ve come to talk Tofar. We even brought the Supreme Leader’s first ambassador to negotiate.”

          What?

          What happened to being there to learn respect?

          You would murder the Commander if you didn’t die in the middle of the jungle. 

          “Are you telling me this woman is the Supreme Leader’s ambassador? He insults me by sending a child. You insult me by thinking I would believe such lies.” Now the man lifted his bowcaster. You had just been dropped into a hostage negotiation without any knowledge of the situation or demands. Or a hostage, unless you counted yourself. Whatever Ren expected from your negotiations, you were trying to avoid getting plowed open by a heavy plasma round from a man who had every right to fire at you, and you had nothing to offer. 

          You stepped forward, arms outstretched, palms open, trying to convey respect and peaceful intentions. “It is as he says. I am Rex Counselor, First Ambassador and Negotiator to Supreme Leader Snoke and the First Order.” In the corner of your eye you saw Bose and Kerrick approaching, weapons drawn. “The Supreme Leader asked that I personally facilitate discussions between you, Tofar of Kiffu, and Commander Ren.” You risked a bow. Hopefully that wasn’t an insult in Kiffar culture. 

          “I have seen your coming, Kylo Ren. You will wipe out this village if I do not stop you, just as you have murdered thousands before. The girl’s presence changes nothing.”

          “I see no village to slaughter.” Of course Ren wouldn’t be able to keep his awful personality in check. Perhaps Snoke has genuinely hoped you could negotiate. You shot the young Commander a look, which he shrugged off, keeping his attention on the other man. “Your precognitive abilities are unrivaled, Tofar. We wish for you to join us. Serve the First Order.” Ren has dropped his hands and moved forward. The four other knights had all arrived in the square, keeping a safe distance and waiting for a command. Ren beckoned to you, “let us negotiate your terms.” Despite every fiber of your being screaming what a shitty decision it was, you walked forward. 

          Tofar kept his bowcaster trained on the commander. “There are no terms. I have no interest in joining you.”

          Taking a risk, you walked past Ren, closer to the Kiffar man. You weren’t a threat like Ren and the others, so he had no reason to shoot you. “Tofar, the First Order is one of the strongest forces in the galaxy. You obviously care about this village—let the Order ensure its prosperity. We can bring in materials and machines unseen on Kiffu or Kiffex.”

          “They do not need your support.”

          “But if they had it, your clan’s status would be assured, correct? You could continue to study the force and not worry whether your family and clan were safe.” When he lowered the blaster, you took the invitation to tread even closer. 

          “Counselor,” Ren warned, but you ignored him. Negotiations only worked if you were willing to give them room. The move had Tofar’s eyes jumping to Ren and the other knights, waiting for the setup. The knights visibly itched to draw their weapons. 

          “Why would you hesitate to join us?”

          The man’s hazel eyes locked on yours.  You were close enough to see the passage of time on his face, wrinkles, spots, and sunken skin. The myriad of green and brown in his irises, however, didn’t seem to be looking at you. His eyes were directed towards you, but his focus was beyond you, beyond that moment. “The only path before your Order is the death of innocents.”

          You should never have been so bold. This was unknown territory with an unknown power coloring every event. Perhaps Tofar had even foreseen your stupidity because he easily overtook you. Before you knew what happened, he had trapped your arm between your bodies and placed the edge of a vibrodagger so close to your jugular you felt the sharp heat eating through thin skin.

          And you had been afraid of the bowcaster. 

          The Kiffar man squared you between him and Ren, your body an unwilling shield. He exposed his back to the rest of the knights but something told you he would see them coming. “Leave, and I will not kill her.” Ren’s stance lowered, as he drew his lightsaber, “activate your weapon and she dies.” You could feel the resolution in Tofar’s voice as it moved past your ear. The statement stilled the Commander. 

          “Tofar, there is no need for this—”

          “Quiet, girl.” The Kiffar cut you off with a hiss, his blade nipping at your neck.

          As afraid as you were, his threats didn’t deter you. “Please, if you—”

          Ren barked your name. “For once in your life, shut up!” 

          “It’s my life and I will not allow amateurs to negotiate it!” The force of your yell made your neck strain, cutting against the blade, instantly cauterized. The smell of burning flesh filled your nostrils, but you persisted. “Tofar,” he didn’t cut you off, “you’re asking them to leave me with you. How do you guarantee my safety when they leave?” You managed to keep the tremor that overwhelmed your body from leaching into your voice. 

          “I’m not leaving without you!” The snarl vibrated through Ren’s helmet. From the flexing of his grip, you could tell all that he wanted was to rip through the man with his lightsaber. 

          “You either leave her or she dies, Jedi Killer. I have seen it.” You could tell he was lying. Something was shifting in the older man’s stance and voice, responding to factors beyond your perception. Either this would push him to act rashly or make him more open to suggestion. Ren wouldn’t be able to save you from the next moment.

          Taking a deep breath, you hoped Ren could see the plea in your eyes that he remain calm, that he not do anything stupid. “Stop creating a false choice for yourself. There’s more here than the three of us, as I’m sure you're aware. How about we remove those external factors?” Your eyes flickered to the knights in your periphery.

          “Master Ren!” It was Mero who objected but you knew he would. Mero spent five years of his life treating you like a child he had to protect, so he would resist any attempt to leave you. After hearing such a strong objection, Tofar would feel like he had gained some control if they left. 

          Ren was quiet for a few seconds, leaving the air heavy with nerves. When he didn’t speak, you tried to prompt him. “Ren?” There wasn’t time for him to question. 

          Behind his blank mask, you could feel his eyes burning into you as he spoke to your captor. “She’s right. There are more than the three of us,” Ren  straightened up, a snide lilt barely masking the raw edge of his voice. “Let’s see how that changes your choices.”

          A speeder raced into the square beside Ren, the engine breaking through the ominous still of the square. It came to a screeching halt behind the Commander, and  Isaabroc hopped off with something in his arms. Tofar squirmed behind you—whatever the knight had was hidden from you, but the Kiffar knew without seeing. When Isaabroc walked alongside Ren, the Commander reached out, scooping a child into his arms. A little girl.

          You watched as the Ren cradled the young child on his elbow, her terrified face inches from his mask. “How about a trade?” She had to be no more than 4 years old, sobbing in the face of the monster that held her tiny arm. How easy would it be for him to snap it like a twig. “Don’t cry. I won’t hurt you.” He cooed to the sniffling child, lying through his teeth, before he turned his attention on the Kiffar man again. “You won’t let it come to that, will  you, Tofar?” Fuck. You no longer had control of the situation. Isaabroc must have discovered the villagers somewhere in the jungle and scooped her up. Ren was foolish enough to try and level the playing field, but all he had done was introduce one more complication.

          Tofar tensed against you, fear finally lacing his voice. “Fine. Let the girl leave and I will release your ambassador.” 

          “No, I want the ambassador first.” Ren’s words were sharp and unyielding.

          “You’ll be able to overpower me as soon as I release this woman.”

          “We could overpower you now, but I would prefer not to risk any injury.”

          The next few words passed between you and Tofar alone. “Your Commander has made an unfortunate mistake. That girl will die now, and I will not let her do so alone.” With that, he shoved you forward and grabbed his bowcaster, firing it into the air. On impulse, you started running towards Ren, only to realize your mistake.

          The square erupted in a firefight as blaster shots rained down from the tops of buildings. Tofar had managed to cloak a number of fighters surrounding you, waiting for a signal. The Knights immediately turned to find the attack positions, avoiding fire, but you didn’t have the same reflexes. 

          Getting shot hurt a lot less than you imagined it would. You could hardly feel the bowcaster quarrel passing through the side of your leg. It was mostly a sense of discomfort, pressure, as you were sent flying face first. Maybe it was just the shock, but it almost felt like you were floating until your chest and arms connected with the cobblestones. 

          Then it hurt everywhere. A blazing inferno ripped up and down your entire body, radiating from the hole below your hip. Perhaps the plasma was still melting your flesh, because it burned and itched like an entire colony of firebugs were crawling in the wound. Everything was a blur, the volley fire around you blowing the ground to smithereens, churning up dust and pebbles, as screams echoed around you. You reached to touch at the epicenter of pain, finding wet, sloppy flesh that easily gave way to your touch. You screamed into your teeth, the pain and contact bringing you back to awareness. 

          The red flash of Ren’s lightsaber hurtled past, narrowly avoiding another plasma round that hit the ground near your body. You tried to scramble away, adrenaline forcing your damaged leg into action. “Get her out of here!” You could hear him shouting orders to the other knights as the men on the roofs began to scream in agony.  They could not have imagined they would win. Ren’s lightsaber crashed down on Tofar’s vibrodaggers. 

          “You heard him.” A hand began to lift you off the ground, gripping near your wound. This time you couldn’t stifle the anguished cry from escaping. “Kriff, that’s a lot of blood!” You couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Bose. It was difficult to see as  shadows began creeping from the corners of your eyes. 

          “I said get her the fuck out of here!” Another crash of blades erupted, but it sounded like it was underwater. The world was swimming—no, draining. Everything was spinning round in circles like a drain plug had been pulled and you were swirling towards the bottom.

          You were dying. You were going to die because Ren thought you needed to learn a lesson in respect.  _ Fuck that guy.  _

          Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wickedness, thank you for your continued editing! You make it even more enjoyable to write! 
> 
> We're in another plot-heavy stretch of the story but in about two chapters I promise you shall be rewarded with the most delicious smut. Thank you for your kind words, patience and support!
> 
> xoxoxo<3


	10. Thirst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You slid off the gurney and assessed how your body responded. The unbearable itch had mostly abated, and while there was some discomfort, you could put weight on your injured leg. “Lieutenant, where is Commander Ren?”
> 
> The young officer gave you a startled look before responding. “l believe he is meeting with High Command, ma’am. In the Overbridge.”
> 
> “Escort me there at once.”

 “Mero! Get in here!” The white overhead light made you want to vomit when it hit your freshly opened eyes. Actually, you just wanted to vomit. Everything ached slightly and  your entire left side itched. 

“Stars! Finally awake!” Squinting, you looked in the direction of the exclamation to find Mero coming towards you. “How are you feeling, Princess?” One of his large hands ruffled your hair, smoothing over your eyebrow. He was so close you could return the gesture, pulling your fingers through his sugar floss hair. Something smelled magical, like indigo flowers and jasmine. Following the perfumed scent, you found yourself looking at the Zabrak woman, Iroki. Her hair was hanging damp along her shoulder.

“Honestly? Itchy and loopy?” You must have been heavily dosed with painkillers, the way everything felt light and fluffy. Probably why you felt nauseous as well; they had been a little too generous with the dose. “Where am I?”

Iroki’s violet eyes were studying your vital signs on a holopad as she answered. “Command Shuttle.”

That made sense. “I never thought I would be excited to head back to the _Finalizer_.”

Mero and Iroki shared a look before the other woman spoke. “We’re headed to the _Supremacy_.”

 You really were feeling loopy. You could have sworn they said you were headed to the First Order Central Command. “What?”

 Mero pushed his hair back, recalling what had likely been a nightmare evacuation. “We were able to keep you from bleeding out, but Master Ren insists that you need to be seen by the doctors on the  _ Supremacy _ . They’re the best in the Order,” he shrugged.

 “How nice of him.” It wasn’t that you wanted to return to the  _ Finalizer _ specifically, but all of your belongings were on the ship, as was MH3. If your injury was as serious as it felt, you were about to be bed-ridden for at least a week, and just the idea of the boredom you would face without your books and datapad made you want to pull your hair out. It was time to face the music. “What happened?”

 Iroki pulled up a display of our diagnostics. You weren’t a medical technician in any sense of the word, but you imagined all of the glowing red was bad. Glowing red usually was a bad thing. “Well, you were hit by a bowcaster in your upper thigh. Tore some muscles, broke your pelvis and femur, but nothing irreparable,” she pointed to the angry red descriptions on the display. Looking down, the actual wounds were wrapped up in sterilite bandages, hidden from sight. “Probably hurts more than most blaster wounds, though. And you tore your femoral artery. You almost bled to death. We had to give you an emergency transfusion.”

Just the description had your stomach flipping. “Fun.” You choked down the bile in your throat.

Iroki placed her hand over yours, grounding you again. “It’s a shame you passed out. Master Ren absolutely destroyed that Kiffar and his allies. Actually, he probably wants to know you’re awake. Mero?” He nodded and left the two of you.

Her hand lingered over yours, calloused, but feminine. “Is there anything I can do for you?” The shade of her eyes was hypnotizing.

“I imagine you saved my life, which I’m pretty sure is more than enough.” You couldn’t help but wink. For a woman with a reputation of mass destruction, the tone of her words, her mannerisms and gestures, were feminine and gentle. Beautiful.

A firm thumb rubbed over your knuckle, keeping a safe distance from the IV line. “It was a joint effort, but you’re welcome,” her closed mouth smile highlighted how full her lips were. You had met thousands upon thousands of people across the galaxy, but she was likely the most eye-catching, her scar only making her more entrancing. “Besides, Mero would be devastated if anything happened to you, ‘Princess.’”

“So he’s told you about me.”

“A bit. I apologize that our first conversation has to be in such circumstances. I can tell that you are important to him, so I wanted to make a good impression.” Even your drug-addled mind was able to read between the lines of her words: she and Mero were close, likely lovers. While you felt just the slightest twinge of jealousy, you weren’t surprised. Opioids or not, she was absolutely breathtaking, clearly strong and talented, just the type of person he had a habit of falling head over heels for. She made an almost imperceptible squeeze along your fingers.

Heat overtook your face. Keeping eye contact with her made your toes tingle. Or the morphine did. You weren’t entirely sure. “You’re very pretty!” Your drug-addled tongue blurted out before your rational mind could intervene. You wanted to eat the words right out of the air before they made it into her ear.

To your surprise, her violet eyes started to crinkle with glee. “Oh yeah? Well then—”

Whatever teasing Iroki had planned was cut off by the blast door opening to a giant looming figure. She immediately jumped, dropping your hand as she made the slightest bow with her head. “Master Ren.” He nodded in turn, then wordlessly waved her towards the door, leaving the two of you alone.

The way he stood fixed, mute by the closed blast door, reminded you of the specter of death. Even without the helmet, he bore a grim atmosphere that swallowed the air in the room. He was making the familiar gesture of clenching and unclenching his fists, but when he finally opened his pretty lips, there wasn’t an edge. “You’re awake.” The words felt so uncomfortable and awkward coming from him. It was almost endearing.

“As awake as a person pumped full of morphine can be.” You wiggled your IV laden hands at him, slightly distracted by how it felt to move your fingers.

More awkward silence. You focused again on your fidgety hands as you waited for him to speak or leave. “We’re headed to the _Supremacy_.”

“I’ve heard.” How were you supposed to have a conversation? The last time you saw him you were getting shot at. Did you thank him for keeping you alive or did you yell at him for putting you in that position in the first place? It was genuinely difficult to figure out how you felt, emotionally. Physically you felt like shit. That was clear.

He started punching buttons on the medical bed controls, and you could feel something new slip in through the IV. “You should rest until we arrive.”

 As he moved to turn down the lights you could feel whatever sedative he dosed you with quickly beginning to work at pulling your eyelids closed. You immediately remembered the same feeling after you were shot, and all you could think of was drifting asleep and never waking up.  “It’s alright, I’m awake. I was enjoying hearing about what I missed from Iroki.” He could even stay if he wanted. You just didn’t want to fall asleep.

His hand paused on the control panel for a moment, looking back at you with a myriad of indiscernible expressions crossing his face before he dimmed the lights. “Rest, RC.”

 

* * *

 

_A spray of blood erupted from behind her as she ran towards him, propelling her forward like a red wing. The only sound she made was a gasp upon the impact of the quarrel. The time it took her to fall to the ground felt like an eternity._

_She should never have been there. When Snoke provided Kylo with the details of his mission to Kiffu and ordered that RC accompany him, he didn’t protest. He had been so furious after seeing Hux parade around the Commander Center, reeking of her, he wanted to drag her out of the general’s reach, and the mission was an ideal opportunity. The Supreme Leader instructed Kylo to use the mission as a chance to test her, to show her the power of the Force, and the idea of instilling fear in her overconfident eyes made him lose sight of the real dangers they would face. He hadn’t even made sure she was armed._

_After rendezvousing with the_ Supremacy _, he released his feelings of frustration and failure in his training, but there was a persistent memory from Kiffu that stirred him at night and denied him sleep. When Tofar had taken her, pressed the knife to her throat, an obscene desire took root inside. It wasn’t duty or guilt, but an unquestionable truth: He needed to protect her._

_Just the suggestion of leaving her behind had him seeing red but he could offer no explanation. Much of Kylo’s recent behavior was a mystery to himself, as if something beyond his control was directing him. When she first arrived on the Finalizer, he accepted that his omnipresent physical desire for her was likely due to a combination of pure biological compatibility and their frequent contact. Perhaps the strong physical attraction was the reason he couldn’t stop dreaming about her._

_After three nights of lost sleep, he trekked down into the ‘city’ of the ship, removing his mask and robes in favor of a captain’s uniform, to blend into the dark shadows of a cantina.  He hated to pretend that he was simply some officer, hiding his power, but the great Kylo Ren couldn’t be seen fraternizing with a crew member, couldn’t appear so weak. But he was desperate for release. Desperate to escape her._

_A sultry blonde engineer quickly plastered herself to his side and asked if he would join her in her quarters. She was attractive but didn’t ask too many questions, more than willing to ignore his vague explanation for why she had never seen him before when he brought her to her knees and started thrusting his cock into her with the persistence of an engine turbine. Hours later, he left the engineer a used, sweaty mess, his release wiping his mind clear, and he finally felt sated. As soon as he collapsed into his own bed and his eyes closed, however, the need returned, worse than before. He could remember her lips brushing over his and the way he could feel her confident smile pull at the corners of them when he pulled away. He needed her more than ever. He needed to touch her soft skin, to hear her gentle moans, to smell her sweat and perfume, to drink her sweet sex. Kylo had never felt so thirsty in his life._

 

* * *

 

Floating.

 You dreamt you were floating across the placid surface of a blue lake, bobbing up and down along the gentlest waves. Serene waters moved around you, embraced you. But you were thirsty. You moved to take a drink of water, but it pulled away from your mouth. Again and again, until all you could think of was how parched you were.

 Opening your eyes so you could get out of bed and quench your thirst, your dream suddenly made sense. A thick wall of curved glass distorted your view of a room full of machines and lights. You were suspended in a bacta tank. From the way your feet were being pulled towards the bottom of the tank, but your harness was pulling up against your armpits and waist, they were draining the tank.

 Slowly, you were lifted out and over the top, then gingerly laid against a gurney by robotic arms. There were a few technicians in the room, pulling off your breathing mask, unbuckling your harness and rubbing your limbs as sensation returned. You were still too groggy to protest as they wiped you down and dressed you in a pair of soft shorts and tank. When they finished their tasks and exited the room, a medical officer approached you. “How are you feeling, miss?”

 “Thirsty. How long have I been out?” Your voice came out rough

 The woman chuckled in response and retrieved a glass of water for you. “Sip, please. Don’t want to agitate your stomach.” You nodded. “You’ve been out for almost five days. We started treatment as soon as you arrived, and after surgery, we kept you in the bacta tank for a couple of days.”

 It took a great deal of restraint to keep to sips. You hadn’t had anything to drink in days. “What surgery?”

 She pulled up your diagnostics on her holopad. “You had serious damage to the bottom of your pelvic bone and the top of your femur, including nerve, muscle and ligament damage. Thankfully, Commander Ren and his crew were able to provide you with a transfusion and stop the bleeding from your injury.”

 Your injury.  Forsaking modesty, you pulled down your shorts so you could see the damage for yourself. There was a slight divot in your usually curved thigh, and a fresh pink scar line forming an almost perfect circle around otherwise healthy flesh. “I had a synthskin graft?”

 “The Supreme Leader wanted to prevent scarring, and bacta grown tissue tends to suffer from discoloration and more defined scarring. While you didn’t get the full benefit of bacta healing in your bones and muscles, we did reinforce the injury site with cybernetics, so you shouldn’t worry.” Cybernetics. You would always have a weakness in your hip then, marked by a strange scar. You fought back the tears that started to well in the corners of your eyes. You never even wanted to go, and you almost died because...what? Ren wanted to teach you about respect? He really was a terrible teacher. “Given the last diagnostic scan, we believe it is suitable for you to return to your chambers and rest.”

 Fury pulled at your muscles as you started scooting towards the end of the gurney. “Is it safe to put weight on the injury?”

 She gave you a quizzical look. “Probably, but it won’t hurt to rest. Normally when we have a blaster wound, it’s from a trooper or a soldier who needs to be back in action as soon as possible. I don’t see why you should push yourself if you have the luxury.” The door opened again, this time a young female officer. “Lieutenant Fraustell will escort you to your rooms.”

 Without further discussion, you slid off the gurney and assessed how your body responded. The unbearable itch had mostly abated, and while there was some discomfort, you could put weight on your injured leg. “Lieutenant, where is Commander Ren?”

 The young officer gave you a startled look before responding. “l believe he is meeting with High Command, ma’am. In the Overbridge.” A High Command meeting. Last time you checked, you had clearance for those. 

 “Escort me there at once.” You started toward the exit.

 “Miss, we can ask Commander Ren to stop by your quarters as soon as he is available if you like.” The medical officer attempted to intercept you as the lieutenant frantically tried to decide if she needed to carry you or support you in some way. You suddenly noticed you lacked shoes and suitable clothes. While you chuckled at the idea of walking into a meeting of the full High Command in medical skivvies, you would have to walk a distance between the medical wing and the Overbridge.

 “Where are my clothes? I can walk on my own, Lieutenant.” You gave the doctor a murderous look, sending her to retrieve a bin with your belongings as you shrugged off the young officer. The contents weren’t your clothes, but standard issue black fatigues with an undershirt and boots. You started shrugging them on, barely noticing the alien sensation of the synthskin as you pulled the pants over it.

 The officer decided to brave a comment. “Counselor, you really should rest--”

 Pulling on the laces of the boots, you didn’t even bother to look in her direction. “I am not arguing with you, officer, I am giving you an order. Take me to the High Command.”

 

* * *

 

In the top ten things you hated about being in space was the persistent existence of blaster doors. You would have given anything to be able to push open a pair of doors so hard they rocked in the hinges and announced your entrance with a clatter. Instead, you had to settle for a silent hiss as you made every effort to walk without a limp, your head held high in your ill-fitting fatigues. Thankfully, your interruption was enough to disturb Allegiant General Pryde.

“Don’t stop on my account, General.” You moved to a chair near the door as you scanned the room. The walls along the room showed video projections of members of the High Command that were scattered across the galaxy, with Hux and Phasma positioned on either side of Ren. There were a few officers in the room, but your eyes stayed fixed on the black and chrome helmet, daring it to call you out.

The grey-haired senior officer hesitated, his eyes flicking to the Commander as well. Perhaps if he had the luxury of being on another ship, Pryde would have continued without question, but he could feel the tension, the dangerously stretched cord between the two of you across the circular table like a spider web. Did he dare getting caught like a fly, consumed by one of the spiders? Ren continued to flex his hands on the table but didn’t speak, so Pryde continued.

The strands of the web grew taut as the meeting continued, and while you continued to keep your eyes on the visor, you could feel Ren staring right back at you. The first person to look away lost so Ren gave directions from your Master without letting his helmet move. Finally, Hux announced that only the Triumvirate was needed but you stayed in your seat, continuing the game of chicken.

Hux rolled his eyes. “Thankfully, your sense of self-importance is not misplaced, Counselor. The Supreme Leader believes you should be kept abreast of developments regarding Skywalker. Though, I would not have minded updating you personally if you needed more rest.” The smug hook of Hux’s voice caught on Ren’s helmet and succeeded in jerking him away from your duel. General Fire Crotch continued, “Poe Dameron of the Resistance has been spotted in route to Megalox Beta. We believe he is seeking out a contact who may know the new location of Tekka, a Hutt by the name of Grakkus.” You recognized the handsome man with curly dark hair from before that popped up alongside the hologram of the giant slug. “We will need to send an agent to infiltrate the prison and reach Grakkus first. And before you protest, Ren,” the projection of Hux gave him a pointed glare, “I believe the Supreme Leader made it clear he wants you and your knights to train on the _Supremacy_ in preparation of engaging Skywalker.”

It was impossible to keep your cheeks from pinching up into a smirk. You didn’t prefer Hux much more than Ren, but you enjoyed watching someone put Ren in his place. Your Master must have made something to that point clear to the giant before the meeting because he sat fixed, likely seething behind the mask.

“We will be sending Agent Terex to secure the informant.”

“After his total failure the first time?!” Ren slammed his fists to the table as he stood. He wasn’t wrong. After the mission on Ovanis, you were surprised the disreputable agent was getting a second chance. “Do you want the Resistance to win?!”

Captain Phasma spoke for the first time since you joined the meeting. “Agent Terex has a relationship with Grakkus as well as some of the prison's operators. Despite his previous failure, he gives us an advantage.” It seemed like the Command Triumvirate had only two leaders with Ren away from the _Finalizer_. Even though the High Command was dispersed across the First Order, and the _Supremacy_ served as Central Command, it appeared that the true authority of military operations was on the bridge of the flagship. The Force user had to be furious.

“Exactly. The Finalizer will oversee preparation for the mission. Ren, we look forward to your return.” Both Phasma and Hux flickered off without another word, leaving you to the rage of the Commander. In any other situation, you would have been apprehensive, certain that he would make a target out of you, but at that moment you were eager to face him. He had already almost gotten you killed, what else could he do? You watched him rise from his seat and head for the exit like a lightning storm, with you scrambling to intercept him.

 Before you could get into his face and give him the verbal thrashing that had been building up in your throat, Ren brushed past you with a single instruction: “Go back to your apartment, Counselor.” He didn’t ask how you were, he didn’t look in your direction; he started stomping off down the hall.

Limping as fast as your new hip joint allowed, you shouted after him. He wasn’t going to avoid you so easily. “I’m not a child, Ren, and you don’t command me. Especially not here.”

His pace slowed somewhat, but he still didn’t turn, keeping his mask forward as the two of you made your way out of the bustling command center. “Stop being obstinate like one, then. You need to rest. No more meetings. No training. Stay in your rooms.”

Nothing was more infuriating than him pretending to care about your wellbeing, and he was doing a terrible job of it, anyways. Where was his concern when he dragged you out to Kiffu? Where was his discernment when he elected to withhold the objective of the mission from you? “You have no authority to keep me out of the High Command. And why does it bother you if I’m training?”

He stopped along a small alcove leading towards the commons area, and turned to you, his faceless mask more detestable than usual. “Your leg needs to heal and my knights need to train.”

“And that is relevant because…?”

“They have difficulty staying focused when you’re around.”

Of course. Kylo Ren, for all his temperamental blustering, was predictable to a fault. It was so infuriating that your eyes almost rolled back into your head. “You don’t want them flirting with me.”

Ren’s response was immediate and sharp. “I don’t like anything that distracts them.”

A factoid from your discussions with the Supreme Leader sparked in your memory. “Doesn’t passion increase strength in the Dark Side?” Your master had discussed how powerful emotions like anger, lust, and pain could increase one’s affinity with the Dark Side of the Force.

“It does. But they’ve got plenty to be passionate about, and you cause too much trouble.”

The sheer hypocrisy of his words was unbearable. “Yet I can’t get you to leave me alone.”

He started advancing on you, probably planning on wringing your neck to keep you from calling him out on all of his absolute bantha shit. “I would avoid you if I could.”

That, you laughed at. “I wish you could as well. Maybe my leg wouldn’t have gotten almost blown off if you hadn’t insisted on dragging me across the galaxy.” You gestured down to the unfortunate appendage.

 Your last statement hung in the air, the shame and rage palpable. Instead of running away he moved in closer, the muzzle of his mask inches from your sneering face. “Stay away from my knights, Counselor.”

 “Stop trying to tell me what I can and can’t do, Ren. What I do, where I am, who I talk to, is none of your kriffing business.”

Giving little regard of your injury, He shoved you against a wall. Each of his considerable hands circled your wrists, pinning them beside your head as his body towered over yours. You could feel the vibrations of the vocal modifier where his mask was pressed against your cheek. “You have an unfortunate habit of lying, Counselor. As I already told you: I’m going to make you obsessed.” One of his hands dropped to smooth down the front of your body, but the Force held your arm in place. Cupping your covered sex, he dragged the black metal of his mask up and down your neck in a cruel imitation of necking. “You know what? Go flirt and sleep with whoever, but you and I both know,” he pushed a thick, gloved digit into the fabric where your entrance was beginning to weep, “that every time you get wet, you’re going to be thinking of me.”

“Fuck you, Ren.” Your voice was meeker than you could stand.

His fingers ran seductively up and down your slit, beckoning you to try and wrap your legs around him so he could make you squirm, and his words were almost imperceptible in their low octave. “Only when you beg for it.”

 Pulling away from  you, he released his grip on your body so you had to lean against the wall. A warning followed in his wake as he continued his previous  path down through the commons area. “Stay away from my knights.”

 

* * *

 

 You lingered against the wall until you were certain he either wouldn’t return, or had certainly reached his own destination. You were in no condition to see him again.  Luckily, your own apartment was a manageable walk through the commons. The small set of rooms was tucked between a block of suites for visiting allies and dignitaries, making sure you had easy access to the parties you were meant to negotiate with and entertain. Not that you were often on the  _ Supremacy _ . Maybe if you had spent more than a few days at a time on the ship, your life wouldn’t have been upended by one of its other tenants. 

 How had you spent six years with the Order and not properly met? While it was true that the First Order was a massive force, and more than two million individuals were stationed on the  _ Supremacy _ alone, it was suspicious that two of the Supreme Leader’s closest followers  had never met. Snoke had to have been keeping you apart for some reason. Maybe he knew how caustic your meeting would be. What had changed his mind?

 You needed to think, to  _ collect  _ yourself, perhaps take a cold shower. To your chagrin, a pair of troopers were standing outside your door when you rounded the corner. Posturing to your full height, you approached the door. “Can I help you?”

 The squad leader, marked by his red shoulder plate, spoke. “Rex Counselor?” You nodded. “We have a shipment from the Finalizer for you, ma’am.”

 “A shipment from the Finalizer?” Peeking around the two of them, you saw one of your trunks marked urgent, as well as MH3, who proceeded to tumble over, chirping with delight. 

“It was ordered that your droid and things be transported over, ma’am.” You followed behind as so the troopers moved the delivery into your apartment. 

 Gesturing them to leave the trunk on the bed, you frowned  at the absence of a label. “Whose orders?”

 He shrugged. “Don’t know. We just were told to bring them along with our unit.”

 Curious. Maybe you would find something inside to indicate the identity of your benefactor. “Well, thank you for having them delivered, Sergeant.”

 They wordlessly nodded and left you alone in your rooms.

 MH3 had already sprung the trunk open to begin unpacking when you went searching for answers. “Who had you pack my things?”

 The droid chirped matter-of-factly. “Well, do you know who told Lieutenant Mitaka to help you?”

 The robotic arachnid gave a firm but ignorant beep. Captain Phasma was as close to a friend as you could have on the flagship, but it was unlikely she would have recognized the significance of being separated from your things. The gesture could have been expected from Hux, but he would have made it clear you owed him, and as there were no suggestive messages or questionable items in the delivery, it likely wasn’t him. It would have been an admission of guilt if Ren had sent for it, so unlikely. That left the Supreme Leader. Your suspicions were confirmed when you walked into your closet to hang some of your clothes and were met with a gown made up of layers of plum organza and decorated with countless cream silk flowers and pearls. A gown that fine could only be interpreted as one thing: a summons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap, you didn't die! And here we all were thinking that the story was going to be about MH3 from now on, as the plucky droid looks to find a new home.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you to all of you for your comments and kudos! I really enjoy writing and it means a lot that anyone would take the time to say something, even a "<3" or "cool story bro." I'll keep at it!
> 
> And as always, thank you to wickedness for your continued patience, editing, and encouragement. I will keep writing this just for you! 
> 
> xoxoxo<3


	11. A Study in Discord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one would ever be as frightening as the man across from you. “And Kylo Ren? What are your thoughts about my young apprentice?” He settled the cup on the table, giving you his full attention.~
> 
> Snoke meets with both of his apprentices and you decide to hit the cantina to decompress.

The aesthetic choices of the First Order perfectly reflected the name of the militant state: order comes first. Function over form. Living quarters were minimalist in color and design, personal effects were limited, and regulations were paramount. Even the few recreational areas on a First Order ship didn’t deviate in design much farther than their original purpose. Unlike the themed night clubs on Coruscant or pleasure jets of Glee Anslem, they were furnished to meet the needs, not the desires, of the crew.

 The Supreme Leader’s personal quarters were not so. The throne room and his dress were excessive to demonstrate power and strength, but his quarters were simply a matter of creature comforts. Snoke suffered from severe osteoporosis, along with other maladies of the ancient, so his rooms were full of plush but firm furniture, decadent fabrics, and fine art. Per his unspoken wishes, you were dressed in the gown he had provided, the fine organza seamlessly blending in with your surroundings. Walking past the antechamber to his personal audience room, you bowed before him, the single most powerful man in the galaxy.

 “I am glad to see you are well, Little Bird.” Sunken blue eyes wandered over your form as you rose to face him, a pleased smile greeting your obedient choice of attire. He was relaxing in a large chair, a miniature throne almost, favoring one of his prized gold dressing gowns. 

 You let your mannerisms take on a tone of affection, gently bowing your head and fluttering your lashes as you spoke. “Only because of your gracious attention, Supreme Leader. Thank you for meeting with me this evening.” Even if you weren’t happy to hear about the choice for cybernetics over a scar, you had already made peace with the fact that your body was an instrument for the First Order and the Supreme Leader.

 He waved you to sit on one of the sofas opposite him as a servant brought a tray of teas and sweets to set on the table in front of you. “It has been too long since we last met, and I am eager to hear what you have learned in your time away.” The servant left as silently as he entered, but you weren’t alone. Members of the Praetorian Guard lined the room, as still as ancient suits of armor on display.

 “What would you like to hear about, Master? The only incident since my last communication was the mission to Kiffu, which I assume Commander Ren discussed with you while I was under sedation?” A subtle fish for information about your rival was threaded in the question. Snoke gave you a grin that reminded you of a proud father: you were already engaging him in the dance of conversation, following the steps and choreography he had taught you.

 “I cautioned Ren that bringing you could put you in harm’s way, but what’s done is done. Tell me, what were your observations from the mission?”

 You bit your tongue behind closed lips to keep from swearing. That kriffing liar! Ren had told you that the Supreme Leader had ordered you to go on the mission. You should have known better than to trust him. “Well, I was surprised to see a familiar face among the Knights of Ren, who are all impressive, I assure you.”

 “Young Mero, from the Academy. Another noble child of the Republic who found their true home here in the Order.” Broken lips were careful to sip the tea at the right side of his face, even as he trained his eyes on you. Snoke rarely ate or drank in front of others, given his difficulty with the open crater on the left side of his face, but tea was a regular part of your visits. A sign of trust.

 “Yes. I, unfortunately, collapsed before I was able to see him use his battle axe, but the knights are quite imposing, even without weapons.” The tea blossomed with botanical and citron aromas, a perfect complement to the whipped sugar confections and candied flowers on the tray. 

 “Our face of terror,” he let out a pleasant rumble. They were certainly terrifying, but no one would ever be as frightening as the man across from you. “And Kylo Ren? What are your thoughts about my young apprentice?” He settled the cup on the table, giving you his full attention.

 Back into the minefield you went. “He is certainly strong. I am sure his,  _ temperament _ , is no secret to you, Supreme Leader, but on the ground, he is surprisingly skilled.” It was true. Ren knew how to handle a tactical mission, even if he was absolutely daft when it came to dealing with others.

 “Are there other times that he is  _ skilled _ , Little Bird?”

 You flushed, choosing to read your own tea leaves instead of keeping eye contact with those crafty slivers of ice in his skull. “He seems very skilled with the Force, Master.”

 His massive frame leaned forward across the table, his voice crawling across your skin like an unseen insect. “Come now, there’s no need to be delicate. Besides, your relationship with him has created an unexpected opportunity.”

 You hazarded a confused look in his direction. “Supreme Leader?”

 Having captured your gaze, he leaned back and started to leer. You fought the sudden urge to fold your arms around you. “Kylo Ren uses discord, chaos,  _ passion _ as a source of power. The physical attraction between you is certainly granting him new strength,” his eyes burned your exposed skin, “but it is his conflict and frustration with you, the discord, that is unlocking his potential. You can help him unlock his greatest potential.”

 Your eyebrows pinched. Despite surprising moments of gentleness, Ren had made it clear that he did bear you ill will, plenty of it. Passion could be a source for the Force, as you had already confirmed, but you had believed that was connected to sexual release, which, despite all odds, only happened one time.  Nothing about the young Force user’s behavior suggested that he was using you for such power, or that he even valued your presence. “Is he aware of this?”

 Snoke stroked his chin with a thick, clawed hand. “I am sure he suspects, subconsciously, but your presence has kept him preoccupied from investigating further. It is unlikely that we would see the same results if he believed that his desires were wise.”

 The puzzle pieces started to fall into place: how you were stranded on the  _ Finalizer _ even when Ren had stopped training you, why Snoke had encouraged you to manipulate him, why you were sent to the  _ Finalizer _ instead of the  _ Supremacy _ .

 “This was never about training me to resist the Force, was it, Master?”

 A wicked flash crossed his eyes, but his tone remained disinterested and clinical. “I did wish to test the potential of your mind, but no, I suspected you could offer something more valuable to our expanding power.”

 Salvation flickered in the spaces between his words: the objective wasn’t training, but simply to rile up Ren, which you would happily take on as a hobby. “If that is the case, Supreme Leader, would it be possible for me to return to my missions? I want to be of use to the Order, and I can negotiate while maintaining contact with Ren—”

 “Do not question me, child. You will keep your focus where I have instructed.”

 “But Master, I want to be of service to you!”

 You could see his inhumanly sharp teeth as he growled at you across the table, his lip curling up in impatience. “Yes, ‘service,’ Little Bird. You are subservient to the First Order, and to me. You would do well to remember that.” An invisible grip wrapped around your neck, cutting off your air. Not enough to strangle you, but to remind you how easily he could snap your neck without moving. “Do as I have instructed, or I will take the time to remind you what service to me can mean.”

 Wasting no time, you jumped to get around the small serving table between you and prostrated yourself at his feet, unmoving. The Force around your neck released, and a massive hand reached down to stroke your cheek. Following the hand until a single clawed fingernail rested under your chin, you gaped at your master. For all of your fear, you did feel a sense of reverence when you looked at him, almost a familial affection. “What do you wish of me, Supreme Leader?”

 Despite the gentle tone his voice took, he continued to tower over you, reminding you of your place at his feet. “Feed his passion, his rage. Continue your training.”

 The last words made your stomach sink. Your mind would once again become Ren’s toy. “Won’t he be able to see this memory?”

 “I will lock this conversation away in your mind. You will focus on fanning the flames. Make him burn.”

* * *

 

_  “You will remain here, Kylo Ren. You are at the cusp of unlocking potential you have only imagined.” _

_“Terex will fail! We risk the Resistance reaching him first!” Kylo was fuming underneath his helmet, but he stood stock-still, trying to remain composed in front of his master._

_Snoke rose from his throne, slowly creeping down the steps, his old bones clearly disturbed that he was moving for the words of his apprentice. “Do you not feel it, young apprentice? The power that stirs inside you?” Even as his spine slightly bowed over by time, he towered over Kylo, living duplicity of vulnerability and strength. “No, you can sense it.”_

_It was true. New strength had flooded his every movement and action, made the Dark Side more accessible than it had ever been. But Light had risen to meet it within him, and it was almost paralyzing. He knew that he was meant to harness both, to take bright knowledge and apply it to the raw force of darkness, but it was more unstable than he had anticipated._

_“I need your guidance, Supreme Leader.”_

_The giant turned from him, as Kylo watched his Master’s shoulders heave with a sigh. “Of course you do. That is why you will train as I instruct.” The man slid back to his throne, carefully tucking the gold robe around him. The craggy face screwed into an impatient expression. “I also expect you to continue to train with my counselor. It seems that her injury was not sufficient to bring her to heel.”_

_Kylo winced at the instruction behind his mask but successfully stifled a groan. “Will this not distract from my own training, Supreme Leader?”_

_“Think of it as a training exercise. I can sense that you crave control as your abilities manifest. Consider her something you must learn to control.” If only his Supreme Leader knew how hard he had tried to do just that. The woman was like coaxium—she grew more and more dangerous the more she was handled. Kylo worried how much more either of them could take before a catastrophic explosion destroyed them both._

* * *

 

Following the Supreme Leader’s orders meant returning to training with Commander Dark and Broody, something you hadn’t missed. Ren sent you a short message informing you that training would resume the next day. It was arguably an improvement over stopping by your quarters unannounced and ravishing you into madness, but it meant you had the next eighteen cycles to stew in your own thoughts. You had planned on sleeping, but anxiety plagued you. Despite the Supreme Leader’s candor, you felt that he was hiding something, and you knew him well enough to trust your instinct. If he wasn’t divulging the information, it meant that such knowledge would change your choices. So many secrets.

Thinking of secrets, you checked your messages—not a peep from your agent about the whereabouts of the Nautolan. Out in the cosmos was a dangerous secret that could help you make Kylo Ren unravel, but it continued to evade you. You had contemplated asking your Master, but you wanted to prove to the Supreme Leader that you were capable of taking down an enemy on your own. Kriff, you hated it when you lacked information. That was what had gotten your leg blown apart, a lack of information. The memory of the mission on Kiffu made your blood boil. Ren told you that you had to attend that mission, he was the one who agitated Tofar, it was his fault you were injured.

But now you knew that while, yes, you were supposed to be receptive to his advances, you were also expected to drive Ren crazy. Snoke wanted you to hurt him, and Ren had been polite enough to tell you how.

You hopped out of bed and started rummaging through your clothes for the fatigues. They certainly weren’t as flattering or inspiring as the rest of your closet, but you needed them for where you were going. Shrugging the pants up over your black undershorts, you settled the sharp black jacket over your shoulders without pulling it on and pulled the spotless leather boots up your calves before heading out the door.

The city of the Supremacy was always filled with life. Unlike other ships that maintained only a cantina and a commissary, the blocks of crew quarters were intermingled with a full market and a few different watering holes. Only the best and the brightest made it to the city, be it engineers, pilots, scientists, or soldiers, and the First Order rewarded their talent. The best cantina in the city, though, wasn’t the large food hall in the center of everything, but a dark hole in the wall where a firm understanding lingered in the air: don’t ask, don’t tell. “Sireina” glowed in lights above as you pushed through the dingy threshold.

Shortly after the second shift change, the place was humming with talk and music. Technicians crowded over tables of sabacc, soldiers danced to hypnotizing music, and officers at the bar ignored the gambling and drugs. A hedonistic oasis within the bastion of the First Order.

 As you rustled up to the bar, you already had your story in pocket. You were an administrative officer on recent transfer from the  _ Fulminatrix _ . People would naturally assume you were an agent, based on your well-kept appearance, and probably a grounded one, given your slight limp. The droid at the bar was quick to take your order for a Rodian Splice, just a hair faster than the man at your side gestured to him, “Two, please. Put it on my tab.”

If he didn’t have a flight suit bunched around his waist, you still would have guessed pilot based on the confidence in his smile and the spark in his hazel eyes. “That’s awfully kind of you, albeit presumptuous.”

He extended a deep olive-colored hand to yours. “I’m K83, ‘Kade’ for short.”

“Nice to meet you, Kade.” You didn’t want to be overeager, but it was nice to meet him. He wasn’t so attractive as to be distracting, but in the 20 seconds you had been in his presence you could already tell he was charming and outgoing, very different than a certain dark commander. The fact that he was a pilot, something you could tell was important to Ren, was the icing on the cake. He was the perfect candidate for your purpose.

“You know, it’s usually polite to introduce yourself in return.” His body leaned towards yours while you feigned disinterest and continued to survey the cantina.

“Mmmm, we’ll see how the drink tastes first.”

 You watched his lip twitch slightly at your coy response, but it gave way to a deep chuckle. “Just transfer in or new rotation?” The droid returned with your drinks as you popped up a curious eyebrow. “New faces stand out around here.”

 “Transfer from the  _ Fulminatrix _ ,” you replied, taking your drink from the counter.

 “Well,” he tipped his own glass to clink along the rim of yours, “welcome to the  _ Supremacy _ , mystery woman.” The aroma from the amber liquid bristled the hairs in your nose as you took your first sip, sending a shiver through your bones. “Good, right? Most places try and serve a knock-off, but it’s always the  _ real thing _ here.” He gave you another toothy grin, moving deeper into your personal bubble until something over your shoulder caught his eye. He went stiff, and his eyes opened wide in shock at whatever unseen threat must have been headed your way.

“Look what we have here, love: it seems a princess has graced our presence.” Kade scrambled off, clearly more afraid of the new patrons than he was interested in your company. You recognized the voice instantly and were curious how it could have caused such a response. Turning to what you expected would be two terrifying masks, you were surprised to find two uncovered faces. If you were to hazard a guess, the black tunics and wraps they wore were training gear for the Knights of Ren, as they looked nothing like any First Order Uniform. Both Mero and Iroki had a sheen of recent training, and the slightest musk hit your nose as they nestled along either side of you.

Sipping at your drink, you spotted a flummoxed Kade and another officer training their eyes on you. Probably wondering how you could stand there so calmly. “You scared away my new drinking buddy.”

Iroki gestured to the bartending droid wordlessly; apparently, the pair had been to the cantina often enough to have a regular order. “Don’t worry; I’m sure we are much better company.”

“That’s beside the point. I assume everyone here knows who you two are then?” You didn’t hide the exasperation from your voice. Based on the expressions across the room, a large “DANGER” sign was going to be flashing above your head for the foreseeable future, complicating your plans. Making Ren jealous was easy enough, but you wanted to do so without complicating any of the power dynamics of the ship. A random junior officer or soldier would have been the ideal candidate, but those were hard to come by in your position.

“We are rather famous.” Mero gave a pointed smirk to the terrified pilot who was probably wondering if he needed to sleep with a blaster under his pillow that night.

“Why no disguises? Isn’t the whole point of the masks to make you seem more scary and mysterious?” It wasn’t just Ren who was adamant about keeping on his helmet. Storm Troopers were expected to keep their helmets on at all times, except when eating. The Supreme Leader had explained that it was for individual and military purposes. Troopers could feel more than human behind their disguises, detaching themselves from fear and emotion, while also creating a sense of unity and cohesion within the group. Ren used his to hide his identity, which you would have thought extended to his closest servants.

Iroki took her drink from the droid, moving her arm behind you on the bar top. “Do we seem less scary to you, Princess?” Her expression certainly sent a shiver down your spine, but not one of fear.

“Point taken. Well, let’s move to a table since you two have already blown my cover.” Sauntering away from their invisible hold on you, you moved towards a table along the wall, trying to hide from prying eyes.

The Knights hardly skipped a beat, returning to their respective places on either side. Mero leaned into you, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Cover? What are you up to, little miss?” He probably thought you were spying or making a covert meeting. If only.

You sighed, taking a long drag of the splice. “Well, no one is going to make a pass at the Rex Counselor, now are they?”

The Zabrak woman was quick to laugh, leaving Mero slightly stunned and disappointed. “Oh, trying to get laid? We really have blown that for you, then.”

After a pause, Mero gave you a hard look, stroking a non-existent beard. “Wait, aren’t you and Master Ren doing the deed?”

He had perfect timing, your fancy drink spewing from your mouth across the table. “What? No!”

“Really? With the way you two act, you could have fooled us.” Iroki was still cackling as she and Mero shared knowing looks.

You groaned as you buried your face into your hands on the table. “If you tell me that we’re mean to each other because we like each other, I will punch you.”

Mero snorted over his mug of phattro. “That would be adorable, and it’s definitely true, but no, I was talking about the way the Force moves between you.”

You scowled at the blond. “The Force ‘moves between us.’ That has to be the weirdest thing I have ever heard.”

“No, it’s true. There’s the push and pull between you two,” Mero pantomimed the words with his hands as if it would clarify your understanding.  “And the way you can’t stop undressing him with your eyes, you have it bad.”

 Iroki chimed in, violet eyes popping open in recollection. “Oh, and it was so cute how careful he was when he carried you after you fell asleep in the cockpit. And the way he acted when you—”

“Wait, he carried me?” You had been certain Mero had done so. That meant Ren also had removed your shoes and tucked you in. Thank the stars for the dim lighting in the cantina because you were certain a blush was building on your cheeks and the impish pair on either side of you needed no further encouragement.

Mero corroborated her claims, “Yep. Most gentle I’ve ever seen him, if I’m being honest.”

You paused, feeling their expectant gazes coming down on you from either side, waiting for your confession. The only confession on your lips was how pleased you were at the revelation, but you didn’t want to encourage them. Why you were so pleased, was something you would never let slip, however. “Oh. Well, we’re not.”

“BORING.”Iroki slumped back into her chair at her own exclamation.

“Naw, it makes sense. Rumor is that you’re the Supreme Leader’s mistress, and I don’t think even Master Ren would dare,” Mero concluded

Your eyes rolled so far back you worried they would get stuck. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” You took a final swig of your drink and heaved away from the table.

“Wait! We’ll behave.” Iroki scrambled to grab your wrist, giving you a pitiful pout.

“No, you won’t.”

Mero took your other hand, giving his partner a quick look. “Well, then why don’t you hang out with us back at our quarters? We’ve got a stash of Polanis Red back in the room?”

Going back to their quarters. If Ren caught wind of such a thing, he would internally combust.  “I suppose a drink or two wouldn’t hurt.” Besides, you did love a good red. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but the next one is too long, so it will balance out. I promise, the next chapter is going to be so smutty you will need a change of underpants. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and all of your feedback!
> 
> xoxoxo <3


	12. Drinks & Debauchery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that time when I first posted this story and promised a threesome? 
> 
> Buckle up, baby.

 Soon, you were leaning back into the mountain of cushions, using your thighs to hold the third bottle of wine steady while you pulled at the cork. The three of you were sprawled out around a low table, a sabacc game continuing at a lazy pace. Your black fatigues had been abandoned on the floor, the imbibed flush having made you too hot for anything but your black shorts and white undershirt. Iroki was in a similar state, down to her leggings and chest piece, and Mero had loosened his tunic. All of you were delightfully drunk. Having successfully breached the bottle, you poured your companions another round.

 “Alright,” Mero leaned over the table, almost showing his poor hand, “how big is the Supreme Leader’s dick?”

Trying to manifest as much disdain as possible in your eyes, you glared over the tops of your cards. “You seriously think I, one, know that information, and two, would tell you?”

 “Absolutely,” he barely skipped a beat.

 You fanned your hand closed, trying to burn sense into your friend’s skull with your retinas. “So, you’re going to assume that I am close enough, and am therefore loyal to, the most powerful man in the galaxy, and you are going to ask me about his... genitals? A man who is not only leader of your army, but also can read minds from across star systems? Who easily he could kill each of us for this disrespect?” Your voice strained with incredulity the more you spoke.

The gears clicked behind that beautiful face, but some of them must have been misaligned because he came up with another smirk. “So you’re saying..?”

Absolutely incorrigible. “Mero, the Supreme Leader is over seven feet tall. I’m certain his dick is bigger than yours.”

Iroki immediately curled up on herself in hysterics while Mero feigned shock and injury. “That’s just hurtful,” his grimace breaking as all three of you were lost to a fit of giggles. 

 The Zabrack woman wiped the tears from her eyes as you attempted to collect yourself and return to the game. “Speaking of dicks,” her words did not bode well, "the two of you were classmates. Did Mero ever make a move on you?” Her eyes bored into yours across the game.

 Before the sputtering sound coming from your lips could form into words, the man in question barked out a laugh. Pushing platinum locks away from his forehead, Mero sighed at his partner, “You do remember I am five years older than her, right?” Taking a deep drink of wine, a somber chill covered his usually jovial portrait. “No, I did not proposition a child.” His words slightly stung. It was true that you and Mero met when you were thirteen and he was eighteen, but you had always longed for the handsome man’s attention.

 Hating the feeling of inadequacy, you chimed in. “I did come on to him once.” 

 Iroki shrieked in delight and rolled over to sit with her knees touching yours, resting her hand on your inner thigh. Half-lidded violet eyes held yours with simmering curiosity. “What did you do?”

 Taking a small sip, you clutched the wine goblet to your chest sheepishly. “When I turned 16,” you can feel your ears burn, “I kissed him.” You risked a peek at your girlhood crush, reliving how anxious and unraveled he made you feel. His dark eyebrows were scrunched together as he laughed as if the memory was somehow more embarrassing for him.

 “Oh, did you now?” Iroki leaned in towards your face, bringing her nose inches from brushing yours, eyes sparkling. Her hand squeezed firmer on your thigh, and you could feel her nails nipping at your skin.

 Mero laughed and rubbed his face with his hands. “Oh, kriff, that was the worst.” His strained laugh hit a nerve.

 “That’s not fair! I had never really kissed before,” you cried out in intoxicated indignation, half laughing. “I had no one my age to practice with.” You started to pout and Iroki bowed to let her forehead rest on yours, moving her hand further up your leg. Her eyes began to promise to practice kissing with you when Mero made another groan.

 “Never been kissed, but I would have shown you way more, Princess.” Iroki’s head snapped back to your companion and a toothy grin split across her face. The man slumped back with his wine goblet in his hand, letting his deep brown eyes lock with yours. “A perfect, innocent little girl: never been fucked.” You watched the deep chestnut of his irises give way to black pupils, blown out with desire.

 Oxygen was finding difficulty moving through your lungs, and you licked your lips. His filthy words were so erotic and validating. Sixteen-year-old you was bright red with embarrassment and joy, but your present-day ears were too busy enjoying the deep rasp his voice took. Your eyes were glued, but you could sense Iroki in your periphery, drinking in the sexual tension. “After you kissed me, all I could think about were those lips: innocent, unsure, but eager. It’s not like I hadn’t thought about it;” he took a sip of wine, eyes never leaving yours, “my princess had been developing fantastic curves.” The cherished pet name took on a distinctly dirtier connotation. “Who wouldn’t want that perfect little body, so willing to do anything asked, untouched by anyone else? Something so forbidden…” his voice trailed off into a nostalgic smirk.

 The Zabrak’s mischief was palpable and she gasped in mock offense. “Why Mero, did you touch yourself thinking about your princess?” His eyes left yours only briefly to share a confirming glance with his fellow knight.

 “I certainly did.”

 “What were you thinking about your princess?”

 “About how I wanted to bend her over and pop her cherry on my cock.” The words made your pussy clench and burn. “About teaching her how to cum, teaching her how to make me cum. Eating her perfect, soft, pink pussy until all she could do was beg. Fucking her every night until all she knew was my cock.” Mero’s voice was a low growl, and you could feel your shorts growing wet between your legs. He let the tension linger in the air, then brought his elbow to rest on his knee, fitting his chin in his palm with a look of resigned melancholy. “But she wasn’t ready for that. And besides, the whole cohort would have fallen into disarray if I broke the Princess Rule.”

 Your face twitched at this. “The Princess Rule?”

 Mero pushed his silky platinum hair back with a sigh. “No one was allowed to touch our Little Princess. Given the age difference, everyone in the cohort agreed to leave you alone.”

 You knew your age was a reasonable consideration on their part, but it still irritated you. Years barren of intimate touch, feeling like you were undesirable. Then you thought of your later years when new students, closer to your age, would suddenly lose all interest in you. “Did this rule apply only to the cohort, or to—?”

 “No one was allowed to touch  _ our _ princess.” An almost sinister smile crept across his lips. Your cherished peers not only denied you affection but selfishly denied you the company and affection of others, as if you belonged to them. You caught the look in his eye. As if you belonged to  _ him _ .

 Your mind was flooded with all of the desperation you had for him ten years ago. Daydreaming of running your fingers through his ivory locks on long Chandrila days. Watching his tactical presentations in lecture while pressing your thighs together as tightly as you could. Memories of late nights in your old dormitory, slipping your own fingers inside yourself, wishing it was him. Suddenly, you were sixteen again. And you had an idea.

 “Why don’t you show me what you would have done to my innocent body if I kissed you again?” You crept forward slightly, letting the anticipation lead you.

 A pause stretched out as he considered you, then raised those perfect dark eyebrows. You always loved how the contrast between his hair and his eyebrows always made him seem more masculine, wilder. “Why don’t you kiss me?” His tongue swept across the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips.

 Rising, you tip-toed around the table to stand in front of him. Your eyes darted briefly to Iroki, who was now watching the two of you with almost predatory intentions. Filthy possibilities spilled from your imagination. You looked down at Mero. “Let’s pretend.”

 “There will be nothing pretend about how hard you cum on my dick, Princess.” Gripping the waistband of your shorts, he pulled you down to straddle his lap. An explicative affirmation escaped the other woman’s lips behind you. Iroki couldn’t have planned this better than how it was unfolding.

 Cupping either side of his face, you remembered the kiss from that sunny day. How you wanted so desperately for him to reciprocate and tell you he wanted you. You had told him of your affection, and he teased you, asking you how much as if it were a game. And just like then, you pressed your lips to his. After slipping your mouth along his you spoke the same words: “You already know how much I like you, Mero.” One of his arms wrapped around your waist as the other skimmed along your thigh.

 “I’m not sure I do, Princess.” Back then, those words had been full of concern and apprehension; now they were dripping with lust and confidence. 

 Biting your lip, you dipped your chin so you had to look up at him through your lashes. “I want you to be my first, Mero.” You could feel his cock twitch beneath you. “Please, take me.” His fingers started to bite into your flesh. You gave him the puppy dog eyes, full of mock desperation and wistfulness. Coffee colored eyes met yours with a genuinely feral look. The fun of playing make-believe overwhelmed any rationality, already empowered by your intoxication.

 The knight took a moment to look over your shoulder at his partner who was enjoying watching your game play out. Turning his attention back to you, he flashed a roguish smile. “Can my friend join us?”

 You didn’t even blink. “I’ll do anything for you, Mero.”

 With that, he went in on your mouth with fervent kisses. Your first kiss wasn’t chaste, but this kiss could only be described as one shared by two people dying of thirst. Your lips sucked and pulled across one another’s, tongues flicking and dancing. You could hardly keep from grinding your hips down into his lap. His growing erection tented against your thin shorts. You let your fingers comb into his short white tresses as he brought one of his hands to cup your breast. His thumb dragged circles around your nipple through the fabric, making you moan against his mouth.

 Behind you, you could hear the rustle of fabric as Iroki stripped. Curious of how the raven haired Zabrak would join you, you turned, only to watch her lay back on her seat, naked. You quirked an eyebrow. As if in response, she brought her fingers to her mouth, coating them with her tongue. Dropping them back down to her folds, she started rubbing circles on herself. “I wanna watch him pop your cherry first.” Her smirk dripped like hot oil into your core.

 Mero licked a stripe up the shell of your ear, making you gasp. “Are you excited to have someone watch as I defile you, Princess?” Balling the front of his robe in your fist, you nodded. He started planting kisses along your neck and slipped his hand under your shirt to start kneading your breasts. “Has anyone ever touched your tits like this, Princess?”

 “Never.” You believed the lie as it left your lips. For all the times you had been touched, it had never been Mero.

 “How does it feel?” You mewled your appreciation. Using the hand at your side, he guided your hips to make steady circles into him, creating friction against his bulge. “Some princesses like getting their nipples pinched. How about you?” Sharp, pleasant heat shot down to your pussy as he firmly pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

 You bucked your hips against him. “Yes!” Pulling your thin shirt over your arms, he started to alternate between pinching each of your nipples, savoring each time your hips snapped in his lap.

 “I’ve always wanted to find out what you like, Princess.” He bent down to tenderly kiss your breasts. “Where you would respond to my tongue; the best angle to give you my cock to stroke you inside; how to rub your clit with my thumb.” Ever the creative type, even his dirty talk was illustrative.

 Then, for a brief moment, you weren’t there: thick, firm arms wrapped around you as raven locks brushed across your cheek. His words were blunt, angry, and possessive, and you ached for him.

 You shook your head, forcing yourself back to the scene in front of you. “I need you to teach me, Mero.” Fingers trailing down his chest, you dipped your hand to roll across his covered length.

 “So eager, Princess.” He didn’t stop you as you pulled the waist of his pants down, letting his cock spring free. He was sizable, uncut, and dark curls betrayed his natural hair color. A slight groan escaped from the back of your throat. “Excited to feel a dick inside you for the first time? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re nice and wet for me first.”

_  Every time you get wet, you’re going to think of me. _

 Indecipherable brown eyes seared your thoughts as you fought to force Ren out of your head again. You turned your gaze to Mero, putting on your best sheepish lip quiver. “How are you going to get me wet?”

 Your act elicited a playful growl from the knight. Wrapping his hands under your thighs, he picked you up like it was nothing. “I prefer to show, not tell.” He laid your body down on a cushioned bench and quickly pulled your shorts off. Your new position gave you a chance to check in on your other companion. Iroki was completely flushed, breathing heavily as she watched the two of you through hooded lids. Biting her lip, she had one set of fingers toying with a nipple, and the other set was probing her own entrance, making wonderful, wet sounds.

 She caught your gaze and smirked. “I can’t wait to hear how you taste.” Her audience and smart comments made you burn even brighter. You were hoping she would want to taste you too.

 “Don’t worry, love. I’ll be able to tell you in just a moment.” Mero pulled your legs apart to fall to the sides of the bench and ran his hands along your thighs. He let out a low whistle as he took a moment to admire you. “Look at that pretty little thing.”

 “She nice and wet, love?” Iroki dragged her fingers up her slit.

 He gave her a toothy grin over his shoulder as he rubbed his hand on your mound. “Just dripping.” You watched her head fall back and she moved one set of fingers inside and the other to assault her little pearl. “Try not to come before our guest does.” He finally moved down to kiss your inner thigh. You could feel your breath catch as he inched his mouth towards your entrance. “But don’t worry—this won’t take long.”

 There was no preamble as he began mouthing at your cunt. He alternated between long exploratory licks at your opening and short, suckling kisses. Before you knew it you were murmuring a string of pleas and praises. Your volume increased as he started to probe inside you with his tongue. 

 And suddenly you were thinking of Ren’s tongue fucking you with abandon. Trying to ride his face as if your life depended on it. You bit your lip strong enough to draw blood to keep from keening the Commander’s name in front of his knights. Instead, you let yourself string out expletives as Mero gripped your ass to get a better angle to start working your clit.

 Your companion was moaning louder to match your own. “I need to hear her cum, Mero, please!” Her words were all either of you needed, as he sucked at you with unmarked aggression. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching as you rocked your hips rough against his face. The delicious sound of Iroki finger-fucking herself and begging nonsensically at you made your cunt clench. You fisted Mero’s platinum locks, lost in the fog of desire the two of them created. “Let me hear you cum, Princess.” On cue, you felt yourself fall off the edge of the cliff, tumbling into ecstasy. Your cries filled the room, but you were soon joined in your chorus by Iroki’s own release. The blonde continued to suck and flick as you rode out wave after wave of pleasure, waiting for your body to stop seizing.

 When you finally stopped shivering, Mero moved his mouth from your pussy and replaced it with his fingers, appraising the mess he made. You feebly reached for him, unable to pull yourself up, but he caught your intentions. He kissed you gently first, before letting you explore his own mouth with your tongue. You tasted sweet and tangy on his lips. “Are you ready to get fucked for the first time, Princess?” Biting your lip, you nodded. “Good, because the sound of both of you beautiful ladies cumming has me rock hard.”

 He wasn’t joking. You watched as he stripped completely bare, precum beading at the tip of his cock. He lazily stroked himself a few times, enjoying how you admired his sculpted body. You finally turned to his face, and his smile was so genuine your stomach flipped. “Let’s pop that cherry, Princess.” He kissed your stomach, your breasts, your neck, until he had positioned himself between your legs, propped up on his elbows on either side of your head. You could feel his length pressing at your entrance. You locked eyes for just a moment, just long enough to remember the hours spent admiring him as he poured over books, wishing for this moment. Bringing his lips to your ear, he whispered, “Don’t worry; I’ll start nice and slow for you.” Making slow, controlled thrusts, he slowly worked himself into you, inches at a time until he was hilted. “How does it feel, Princess?”

 “You feel so good, Mero.” Your hands were gripping at his shoulder, trying to pull him deeper if it were possible. “Please fuck me.”

 He chuckled into your neck. “Nothing could keep me from fucking a pussy this tight and perfect.” Giving you one gentle kiss, he started rocking into you, hard. Unlike the gentle rolls he made to start, he fucked you like he knew you wanted; without hesitation. Every motion made you clench around him, trying to draw him in. “Kriff, virgin pussy is tight,” he hissed. He slowly lifted himself off of you and placed his hand flat on your abdomen. You propped up on your elbows to see his intentions, but you were quickly flat on your back again, moaning, stars in your eyes. When he pushed down, he sandwiched your g-spot between his thrusting cock and the brace of his hand. You pleaded for more and tried to keep up with his perfect motions. He really was an artist in everything.

 Iroki finally picked herself up from the haze of her orgasm and wandered over to the two of you. Resting her hands on Mero’s shoulders, she drank in the sight of him thrusting into you. “I’m going to need a taste of that soon, lover.” Her tongue wet her lips, eyes never leaving the spot where you and Mero joined. “You’ve popped her cherry. It’s time to let me eat the rest.”

 Without warning, Mero pulled out of you, leaving you aching and hollow, as he lifted you up and pulled you into his lap. Your back was flush with his chest, legs spread across either side of his strong thighs. He gingerly guided your hands to reach behind you and hold his neck, and you barely caught the shit-eating grin he flashed Iroki. Bending forward just slightly, he hooked his elbows under your thighs and lifted you up, and started fucking up into you. You were helpless to meet his thrusts, a plaything in his muscular grip. 

 Iroki got down on her knees to watch Mero artfully destroy your cunt. An unfamiliar sense of shame wished she would stop looking, but it was quickly smothered with a dark desire that she would stop looking and start touching. Sensing your internal conflict, she smiled and slowly brought her lips to yours. Her kiss was delicious and deep, fruity in ways you imagined only she tasted. When she pulled her lips back you were more certain than anything else in the world that you wanted her mouth everywhere, all at once. Without speaking, she moved down to kiss and tease your nipples.

 Mero must have decided the show you two were making was worth his attention because his thrusts became steadier, shallower, his cock barely pulling out of you before he buried himself again. He peered over your breasts to watch the other woman slowly bring her mouth down your chest and stomach. When her mouth was right at the apex of your thighs, you could feel one of her perfect hands reach for Mero’s sac to give him an encouraging squeeze. 

 She pressed her tongue firmly against your bud and Mero’s thrusts took the intention of pushing you into her. Their combined movements dragged your clit up and down her tongue, with little effort on Iroki’s part, and you were screaming in ecstasy.

 “That’s right. Make this little princess cum on my dick.” You bounced against him, rolling your head on his shoulder. If your first climax had been a tumble, now you were racing into a crash, and your body was going to be quivering wreckage. The soft sponge of the woman’s tongue pressed harder against you, her thumb making fervent circles where your pussy was split open by Mero’s cock. Your body couldn’t take any more, you were certain.

 And then your body was shaking violently, your praises echoing across the room, maybe for seconds, maybe for days. You wanted to float in that pleasure forever, riding Mero’s cock and Iroki’s tongue simultaneously until the end of time.

 But as soon as they had brought you to climax it became a secondary concern for either of them. Mero lifted you up again, as Iroki moved to settle herself down among the throw pillows and blankets again. Once she was settled, her legs spread open, he dropped you down on all fours in front of her, his length never leaving you. You could feel him reaching for something, and watched as he handed the open wine bottle to Iroki. She tipped the bottle to your lips. “Drink.” You took vigorous gulps until she pulled it away, the room slightly spinning. She took a drink herself, and then, leaning back, she poured the bottle down her chest. You watched, enthralled, as the plum liquid rolled between her soft breasts, across her taut, muscled stomach, down into the black curls covering her sex, and the dark pink folds within. “Drink.”

 Any hesitancy you might have had was washed away with the wine. You nuzzled your face between her thighs, inhaling the mixture of sweet wine and sweeter sex. The scent was literally intoxicating, and you couldn’t have stopped yourself from lapping at her folds if you wanted to. “That’s right, Princess. Drink that pussy up.” Mero started to slowly roll his hips into you again, and you could hear a wonderful sigh escape Iroki. Focusing your attention on her clit, you could feel a tremor run across her thighs. “Your mouth must be as good as your tight little cunt, Princess.” Mero’s voice cracked slightly, and his pace intensified. You could feel your oversensitive muscles tightening again, trying to milk every inch of the man inside you.

 “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Iroki’s hands were tangled in your hair as she bucked against your mouth with abandon. Even though you were certain Mero’s cock was making you tremble as much as she was, you took the weight off one forearm so you could dip two fingers in between her folds. “Oh stars, yes!” The entire floor could likely hear her screams as you curled your fingers inside. Suddenly, her hips were coming off of the pillow, and her passage gripped your fingers with undeniable force. You continued to pump into her with your fingers as she clenched and shivered, almost forgetting Mero’s quickening pace as you drank in her cries.

 The man must have been waiting for his lover’s orgasm because as soon as you stopped your ministrations and Iroki was lying back into the pillows, Mero roughly pulled you back by your hair. The pain brought your focus entirely to him again, and the sweet friction that was building up between your thighs. His thrusts became brutal, and you could tell he was close. “Tell me what I want to hear, little princess.” His free hand moved to begin furiously rubbing your clit.

“Please come in me!” He growled into your neck, violently fucking into you. You were clenching, just on the cusp of release, when you felt him stiffen, thrusting so hard into you that you both fell over onto Iroki.

“Fuck yes, Princess! Take it all!” He released inside you as his hips stuttered into soft rolls. After a moment, he pulled out to sit back on his heels, chest heaving. You watched over your shoulder as he pulled your lips apart, hypnotized by the way his seed drooled out between your folds. “I always wanted to see my cum dripping out of you.”

 “Yes, but I think you filled your princess up before she could cum again.” Given your two orgasms, you couldn’t complain, but she was correct. Biting your lip, you glanced between the two of them for direction.

Letting out a rough chuckle, Mero buried a smiling face into your hair. “Well then, Princess,” he brought his lips to your ears, “want to sit on my face, and let her have a turn on my cock?” You flushed as he began kissing your neck and shoulders.

 “Yes please.”

 

* * *

 

 Iroki and Mero were gone when you finally stirred, curled up among the pillows and blankets of Mero’s room. The ambient lights were dimmed; they must have hoped you would have a chance to sleep. You would have to thank them later for being such good hosts. Stretching out, the vertebrae of your spine popped into place, and you could feel tender muscles strain along your shoulders and the tops of your thighs. Even your abdomen groused at being moved. After the previous evening's activities, though, you weren’t surprised.

 You tidied up the room as a gesture of thanks, pulled on your clothes, and headed back to your own apartment. MH3 was distressed when you arrived--less about your absence and more because your skin was unwashed--quickly updating you on your schedule. You had slept through most of the morning, and your appointment with Ren was fast approaching. The droid wouldn’t be content until you were scrubbed clean and dressed in your own clothes, just in time for you to hightail it out of your apartment and to training with the surly commander. 

 Instead of meeting in one of the interrogation chambers in the brig, you were expected in a Ren’s personal training rooms. The Knights of Ren couldn’t be expected to train with the rest of the First Order troops. According to Mero and Iroki, they would be practicing with prototype TIE fighters at the same time, a new assignment that would require them to be halfway across the ship, of course. The blast door for the training room opened for you without confirmation, but it took you a moment to notice the massive black shadow propped up against the wall by the entrance. 

 “You’re late.”

 “I’m right on time, Commander.” Intentionally so. Despite your new mission, you didn’t want to be stuck with him any longer than necessary.

 A slight snort echoed through his helmet as he lifted off the wall. Following him further into the room, you noticed that a small low table and cushions had been set up in the center. With the steaming teapot resting innocently on top, you would have guessed he had invited you over for a polite conversation. You didn’t hesitate to kneel at the table and pour yourself a cup of what smelled to be jasmine brew.  

 He settled on the mat across from you. To your surprise, he removed his helmet, setting it at his side. You could see the shimmer of exertion across his brow and at his temple. You could only imagine how stuffy it was, training in that helmet.  “How are you feeling?” There was the slightest tinge of shame and hesitancy in his voice.

 “I’m fine,” you fought off any expression as you served him a cup. Perhaps you were actually going to have a polite conversation. What was the world coming to?

 Any softness in his expression was quickly stowed away. “Even though we’re resuming training, I expect you to continue to skip physical training and any unnecessary meetings. You’re still on bed rest.” Of course, any civility was a false promise.

 “I answer to the Supreme Leader, not you,” you didn’t look at him as you gently blew into your own tea.

 “Stop being obstinate. You shouldn’t exert yourself.”

 Images of the night before played across your mind, pulling at the corner of your mouth. “Too late for that,” you mumbled.

 His gaze narrowed, but he didn’t ask. It didn’t matter. You would reveal it to him in due time. “The Supreme Leader is worried that I am not providing you with effective training. That you need more explicit instruction than what I have provided.” His fists clenched and unclenched. It seemed that your master was aiding in your machinations. “I have been studying how to resist the influence of the Force. I believe there is a way you can be successful if you are as clever as you seem to think you are.”

 “Oh?”

 “When a force user searches the mind of another, the Force guides him on a path to the information he seeks. The path will always be there.” He tapped on a holopad that sat on the table, bringing an image to life. “But you can make the path difficult. If you can build something near unsolvable, you can keep me out.”

 “A maze.”

 “Or a puzzle. Anything that requires the intruder’s attention. But I doubt you can come up with something that can keep me out.” The smallest smirk played along his thick lips. He was daring you instead of disparaging you, like he wasn’t dead-set on your failure. You could think of several things that could distract the intruder before you. “I’ll give you a moment to think about something. I’m sure someone with the Supreme Leader’s trust is up to such a task.”

 There was merit to his suggestion, certainly, and you were almost tempted to try. Just the idea of sending him running around in circles in your mind, laying traps for him to stumble into, was mouth-watering. Maybe another time. You feigned mulling over a ‘puzzle’ for him, long enough to be believable, then lifted your gaze to his.

 “What will it be then, Commander? Sequences? Questions?”

 “Questions, Counselor. Are you ready?”

 “You’ll find out.”

 “I will. Tell me then, why do you have an agent operating in Hutt Space?”

 For the smallest sliver of time, you were defenseless, immobile. How could he possibly have found out about that? You could feel Ren’s tendril pushing into your mind as you tried to stuff the answer away on impulse.

 “You are trying to hide from me?” No, you couldn’t just hide. He was goading you so you would be sloppy. Well, if he wanted something that required his attention, you would give it to him. You thought of how frustrated you were at not hearing from your agent, how you went to the cantina. He pulled at the memory, to find your motivations. He had taken the bait. Instead of letting him delve backward in time as he wished, to the source of your agitation, you moved forward to your encounter. You let the faces of his knights flicker through, taunting him, before you pretended to fight again.

 The buzz in your mind receded, letting you focus on eyes that were burning with frustration. “I told you to stay away from my knights.”

 “And I told you I don’t answer to you.”

 The teapot and table were violently flipped away, leaving nothing to impede Ren from crouching in front of you, placing his hand on your head. The invasion into your mind began anew, his will furiously clawing to find your disobedience. Whatever question he had asked was long forgotten. He followed you through the ship to Mero’s rooms, watched you uncork the bottle. His body moved closer to yours until you were scrambling backward. Perhaps you would have been able to move away, but as soon as the memory of your lips against Mero’s unfolded, pure fury burned your mind. His physical movements matched the Force, restraining you.

 Leather-gloved grips on your wrists pushed you flat against the training room floor. Your head smacking against the mat brought you back to the real world, but you could still feel Ren pushing into your memories. It was a strange sensation: you had one foot in your mind, the previous night of debauchery playing out for his greedy consumption, and the other was firmly imprisoned beneath his massive, very real body. Wild eyes stared down into you, but he wasn’t looking at you, you knew. No, he was watching Iroki feast on your sex as Mero plowed into you.

 Your body responded to the relived pleasures, blurring the line of reality further. Focusing on the heavy body above you helped keep you grounded in reality. His knees were between your thighs, pushing them up and out, and his forearms arrested your own. Looking up, you saw a mouth twisted with rage and lust, and a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He was almost entirely submerged in your reveries. Planting your feet firmly on the floor, you arched your hip up to brush against his, feeling his firm length. You rolled against him again, this time eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Kylo, his eyes squeezing shut. Nothing was going to keep him from listening to you moan into Iroki’s pussy.

 Carefully lifting your left leg to wrap around the knight’s back, you started to grind against him, reveling in the friction against your own arousal. Kylo couldn’t reciprocate the intentionality of the movement, too far gone, but his hips twitched in reaction, and the grip on your wrists turned bruising. You sped up, feeling the tension building up between your legs. As your focus shifted to finding release, the internal narrative you were both experiencing became erratic, moving between memories of the previous night to your fantasies of being split open on his cock. He moaned at the thought, urging you towards a frantic pace. Your orgasm was so close as you felt it build, both in your mind and in your body.

 His body started to respond, hips rocking against your own, and his forehead pressed against yours. “Kriff—you tease.” You moaned in return, delirious in the memory of orgasm and the very real sensations of his cock. On the verge of eruption, you tried to spur him to fuck you through your clothes harder. Instead of letting him comb through your mind at will, you projected fantasies towards him, imagining your bodies as a tangle of limbs and swears. His own desires seeped into you as he man-handled your mind, treating you to images of you on your knees, mouth purring around his cock. You were so close.

 “Fuck!” Kylo slammed his hips into yours with a force that pinned you to the ground. He was hurtling over the edge, but you weren’t going to let him leave you alone. Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, you felt every frantic, erratic thrust, and devolved into shivers. A rough push of his covered cock against you and you were finished. The way his face screwed up, the feral growl that pushed past his teeth, told you he was as well. Strained moans filled the room, as his pace slowed and you slumped to the floor.

 The weight of his body on yours brought you back to reality. Even though his size was oppressive, it was almost comforting, being blanketed by his strength. Thick dark hair fell across your face and you were half tempted to start twirling it around your fingers. He must have felt your intentions, because he quickly shoved off the ground, stomping away. Once he was a safe distance he turned to spit at you. 

 “I told you to stay away from my knights.”

 “I’m not very good at following orders.”

 “You ever even think of disobeying my command again, Counselor, I will throw you in the brig. I don’t care what Snoke says.” The look in his eyes alluded you. There was fury, certainly, but also desperation, longing, fear. All emotions that pulled at something underneath your ribs. Before you could try to parse the expression any further, he shoved the helmet on, drawing a curtain of black between you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And dry-humping Kylo Ren? What is it, your birthday?
> 
> Sadly, updates are going to slow down as school is back on. But fear not! The next few chapters are already in the works with delightful new locations, missions, and characters. Oh, and more sex. 
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments and support! Special thank you to wickedness for putting up with multiple read-throughs of a threesome ;)
> 
> xoxoxo<3


	13. Coruscant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, that isn’t a terrible look for you, Commander”
> 
> For a nanosecond, he seemed to overheat, trying to take in the elaborate costume without shorting out, but his expression quickly reset to its usual frosty state.“Don’t mock me.”
> 
> “I’m not. Blue is your color.” It was. Somehow the hue of his tunic made his lips look even more invitingly rosy, and his irises glowed amber. Instead of a seething monster, your companion looked like a gallant knight, the type you would have fawned over in your youth. Like a Jedi Knight.

 

          Incessant jabbing into your rib cage dropped you out of the sweet embrace of sleep, a distressed chirping assaulting your ears. Rolling over, you saw that your alarm wasn’t set to go off for another hour, and you had been relishing sleeping in. 

          “Kriff, something better be on fire, MH3.” You sat up, the droid pacing along the bed as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. 

          The hurried beeps you got in response made those same eyes almost burst from your skull, scrambling so quickly you fell to the floor. “When did he send the summons?” You frantically foraged your closet for an acceptable outfit as you raked your fingers through your hair. There was barely enough time before you were expected in the throne room to sprint across the ship, which seemed to be intentional on the Supreme Leader’s part. It bothered you that you were being summoned to the throne room instead of his chambers, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You were still shimmying a boot up your calf as you stumbled into the halls of the Commons. 

          As you reached the lift to the throne room, leaden footfalls raced behind you. You noticed dark flyaways escaping from under his helmet; at least you weren’t the only one running late. Neither of you spoke as the elevator raced upwards, each of you inching forward so that you could be the first out the door when it opened. It turned out that Ren was at least above shoving you out of the way when you snaked past his larger frame into the harrowing red hall.

          You stopped only a few feet into the chamber to dip down on one knee, head bowed in obedience. You could hear Ren mimicking the gesture, nervous breathing hissed through his helmet close by. Whatever the Supreme Leader had summoned you for was a mystery to both of you. “Supreme Leader, my gravest apologies for not arriving sooner.” You lifted your eyes to your master, not moving from your position on the floor until he gestured you forward. 

          “I see that you still have a habit of sleeping in, Little Bird,” his voice resonated more amusement than frustration. His use of the pet name shouldn’t have garnered a reaction, but the appellation felt shameful in front of Ren. You hoped the commander was too preoccupied with his own flustered apology to notice your discomfort. The overlord turned his attention to his apprentice, humming. “I wonder what you were up to, Kylo?”

          “Meditation, Supreme Leader.” 

          Sharp, clawed fingernails clicked along the surface of the throne. “I see. Well, you are both here now, so I will begin.” He crooked his fingers, drawing you both closer to him, until you were at the foot of the dias, backs straight with mild panic. 

          Milky blue eyes latched on yours. The hard line of his eyebrow made you brace for impact. You didn’t think he would beat you in front of Ren—he wasn’t enough of an audience for it to be meaningful humiliation—but he could certainly berate you. For what, you weren’t sure, but your hindbrain started to screech about the floor of the training room, about how you could still feel Ren between your thighs, even though in your rational mind you knew it was what the Supreme Leader wanted. 

          “My apprentice has expressed that he is mystified by your importance or relevance to the First Order.” Ren shifted uncomfortably at your side. 

          You couldn’t help but laugh. “If I am being completely honest, Supreme Leader, I too am curious.”

          “Oh?” Mock surprise stretched his rough skin and chapped lips.

          Normally, you would have kept your mouth shut, you would have acted above the insults of a rival, but you could feel the Supreme Leader’s intentions, the way he was daring you to challenge the implication. “I have been out of your service for weeks, Supreme Leader. I cannot help but feel that I have been dismissed.” 

          “Are you not serving me by training with my apprentice?”

          “Considering how little progress I seem to be making, I can’t say I am. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for Commander Ren.”

          He appeared to consider your words before leaning back into his cushioned throne, a sneer forming. “Well then, Little Bird, perhaps he should see your work firsthand.”

          “Supreme Leader?” Something shifted in the air, unseen but menacing, icing over every nerve in your body. Your Master was making a move. 

          “I am sending you to Coruscant. You have an invitation to an annual gala for the arts, as I’m sure you know. There is a junior senator who needs coaxing of your variety, and there are some investors and merchants who need to be handled. You will go there as my representative and secure additional funding for the final stretch of the Star Killer project.” Whatever terror Snoke was plotting was pushed aside by a ray of hope. You were being sent into service, real work. And you would be planetside! Stars bless you. “Kylo Ren will go with you so he can observe.” 

          You kept your smile in place, trying to appear grateful as you selected your next words with care. “Thank you for the opportunity, Supreme Leader, but I worry that Commander Ren’s presence would unsettle investors.” You gestured up and down the giant warrior’s frame, specifically his awful mask. “He certainly will drive the senator away.”

          Ren echoed your confusion. Neither of you were enthused for another mission after the last one. “Should I not be training with the Knights of Ren, Supreme Leader?” You nodded in agreement.

          The old golem would hear none of it, cutting both of you off with a disinterested wave of his hand. “You will go with her. Observe her work and protect her. You are more than capable of disguising yourself.”

          You could feel Ren preparing to launch into another run of excuses and pleas, but your master’s eyes locked him in place, ignoring you entirely. “If you are going to lead the army of the First Order any further, boy, if you are going to quash the Resistance, you must understand what feeds the army, what builds our ships.” Even though you were filled with pride at the acknowledgment, dread crept in underneath. Kylo Ren, leading the First Order? An unexpected and unwelcome idea.

          Defeated, Ren bowed, with you following the gesture. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

          “Go. A ship is being prepared for your departure.”

 

 

* * *

 

          The Command Shuttle would have announced your affiliation just as assuredly as Ren’s mask, so a transport shuttle took the pair of you to a pleasure cruiser that had been ‘borrowed’ from an ally. A partial squad of stormtroopers joined you, abandoning their white uniforms to present as a private crew. 

          The commander was clearly unhappy to find a pilot in the cockpit, almost throwing the poor trooper out onto the hangar. Only when you pointed to the mission brief where the Supreme Leader explicitly mentioned a pilot so “Commander Ren can give his full attention to the mission’ did he begrudgingly allow the pilot to take his position. The sergeant attempted to placate Ren, stating they would ensure the Commander was able to rest and focus, would stay out of his way, and that they would not disturb the two of you on your mission. The way the officer’s eyes flicked to you, the curious stares of his troops, didn’t go unnoticed by you: they clearly believed that instead of being assigned on a dangerous covert mission, they were the trusted security for a secret liaison between the Commander and his lover. The conspiring enthusiasm was a nice change from the terrified fumbling Ren’s presence evoked, so you decided to indulge their fantasy. Sadly, your partner was not so accommodating.

          Although Ren was exiled by redundancy, he kept his distance. You would walk into the galley where he was reading, but as soon as you settled yourself in a chair, he would leave for his own cabin or to “check the flight plan.” Your recent tryst, it seemed, did nothing to bring you closer to your target. Snoke would be expecting you to use the mission as a way to get to Ren, to embed yourself under his skin like shrapnel, but you didn’t want to be too aggressive and scare him off. If Ren was remotely observant, he probably suspected that something about the entire arrangement was fishy.

          Instead of pestering him, you spent the afternoon studying labyrinth designs. Even though the Supreme Leader had made his true intentions known, you were fascinated by Ren’s theory. Perhaps if you could give him a challenge in training, he would show more respect, more interest. Soon enough, the hours had dwindled and a trooper came to the galley with a meal tray. You thanked him before informing him that Ren was in his cabin. 

          “Actually, leave the tray here. I’ll bring it to him,” winking as you waved him on his way. Abandoning your reading, you grabbed the tray and buzzed the door. No answer.

          “I have your meal, Commander.”

          The response was so low and suppressed you almost didn’t hear it. “Leave it. I’ll get it later.” He was sulking about something. 

           You sagged against the entrance, spinning one of the plates round and round. “You can’t hide from me all day. The ship isn’t big enough.”

          “Leave it, Counselor.”

          “Open the door or I make a scene,” you said with a slight sing-song tease.

          He paused but continued with the huffy tone. “You wouldn’t dare.”

          Ren clearly hadn’t been paying attention over your weeks together; it seemed that he needed a demonstration of how far you were willing to go to get your way.

          “Kylo, please let me in! Don’t scorn me like this.” The door remained closed. You upped the ante. “My darling, I’m so sorry I insulted your manhood! You know I can’t live without you between my thighs, even if—”

          Whatever insult you had prepared was lost as a gloved hand jerked you into the cabin, the jolt sending the tray toppling out of your grasp. “What is wrong with you?!” He snarled, throwing you inside.

          “Well, you only have yourself to blame for your food being on the floor.” Ignoring the mess at the entrance, you sidled up to his bed and flopped down on the covers. Ren fumed as he picked up the tray, trying to give you a warning glare that you enjoyed ignoring.

          Once the remnants of dinner were sacrificed to the waste system, he came to hover over you, glowering as you stretched out like a starfish. “Is there something that you wanted, RC?”

          Crossing your arms behind your head, you gave him a coquettish look. “You don’t want my company?”

          The tension he tried to massage from between his eyebrows was its own reward. “Obviously not.”

          “What if I was interested in training? You like that, don’t you?” Your cheeky grin earned another growl, but you noticed that his eyes flicked down to where your blouse had ridden up along your stomach, baring skin. The two of your were certainly sharing the same memory, but he shook himself from the revery and stomped over to an armchair in the corner, picking up his holopad in an attempt to ignore you again. After an awkward silence, you relented. “Fine. I’m bored. We can talk about the mission if you like.”

          His full attention returned to you, studying to see if you were simply trying to bait him into more of your nonsense. You raised your hands in surrender before he pulled up the mission brief.

          “I assume you’ve been to Coruscant before.” He didn’t look at you when he talked, so you focused on grooming your nails.

          “I was born there.”

          “No wonder you’re so arrogant,” he scoffed. If he expected a reaction from the insult, he wasn’t getting one. It was a somewhat accurate observation. Not that you were more arrogant—like he had room to talk—but that people from Coruscant were. The self-proclaimed ‘Center of the Galaxy’ was notoriously elitist and indulgent, as were the residents of the planet.  

          Another long pause. “Is your family there?” If he was looking at you, you didn’t return the gesture.

          “My parents are on Commenor, I believe.” The subject was unrelated and irrelevant to the mission.

          “You believe?” 

          “I haven’t spoken to them since before I joined the Order.”

          “Oh.” Just ‘oh.’ Like you were the only member of the First Order with an estranged family. Hell, half of the Order’s recruitment depended on young idealists who didn’t talk to their parents. If anyone thought the First Order’s troops were young because they were all pod-people or taken from birth, they were mistaken. It was home to those who needed validation and a sense of belonging that didn’t come from family. It wasn’t a big deal.

          “It’s fine. We were never close. I was mostly raised by my grandmother before leaving for the academy.”

          The usually hard and temperamental face softened for a moment, some thought leaving him vulnerable, as if he empathized. He must not have been close with his parents either, but you didn’t press. Better to not let him know how he was becoming easier to read so he wouldn't throw his defenses back up. And if you were being honest, you didn’t want to continue the conversation. 

          You pushed up off the bed and moved for the door. “Sorry about the tray. I’ll go grab us something to eat.”

          When you were able to secure a plate of meat and bread, you set the tray on the ground, knocked, and went straight to your own room. 

  


* * *

 

          The second day of the journey, neither of you ventured out of your rooms. The inquisitive look on the sergeant's face, the way he breached the threshold to your room like the floor was made of explosives, they must have thought the two of you had fought. You hadn’t, which in and of itself was strange, but you felt too vulnerable to make any attempt at teasing him. It wasn’t that your family background was a secret, per se, it was just too intimate. The Supreme Leader had asked you to seduce Commander Ren, to “make him burn,” not start a relationship. Sure, you would let things about yourself slip out, give him a taste of affection beyond simple temptation, but you made sure to only give him the sweet crumbs, not the messy raw parts. 

          It was only when you were nearing the Core world, when you were getting dressed for your arrival and that evening’s festivities that you contacted him, asking him to show you what he was planning to wear as his disguise. The mission brief said that Snoke’s personal tailor had provided the garb, but you wanted to ensure nothing was out of place. 

          MH3 had just finished pinning your hair back and was beginning to apply your cosmetics when he knocked. At least he had finally learned that social skill. You granted him entry, but asked him to wait in your room so you could finish up in the fresher. After highlighting your features with hues of gold and blush, the droid started fixing delicate pieces of gold leaf to your skin, arranging it to scatter across your face like brilliant star clusters. The theme for the gala that evening had something to do with gold, and MH3 was not a droid to tolerate being outdone by any human invention. Once the little bot finished its mad experiment on your skin, you moved out of the fresher.

          A pleasant surprise was waiting for you around the corner. “You know, that isn’t a terrible look for you, Commander”

          For a nanosecond, he seemed to overheat, trying to take in the elaborate costume without shorting out, but his expression quickly reset to its usual frosty state.“Don’t mock me.”

          “I’m not. Blue is your color.” It was. Somehow the hue of his tunic made his lips look even more invitingly rosy, and his irises glowed amber. His lightsaber must have been hidden somewhere under the layers of brown, sand, and cerulean damask, because a blaster was strapped to his thigh in its place. Instead of a seething monster, your companion looked like a gallant knight, the type you would have fawned over in your youth. Like a Jedi Knight. 

          The blue also served as a nice contrast to the blush that crept up his ears at your compliment, one you were trying to keep from spreading onto your own cheeks. “But that hair won’t do.” You moved towards his perch at the foot of the bed, where he ducked away when you reached for his locks.

          “Nothing is wrong with my hair.” The indignant pout plumped his lips even further, inviting you to lean into them.

          Instead, you clicked your tongue. “No self-respecting knight or bodyguard would risk his hair falling in his face, and certainly not one escorting me.” He scowled but he didn’t move away when you reached for his hair again. Inky tresses carded through your fingers with ease, letting you portion sections as you pleased. It had been a long time since you had braided another person’s hair, but you easily fell into the rhythm of twining the strands together. “Now, just so our story is straight, I have been unwell for the past few months and you are protecting me as I venture back into society. I’ve been gone too long to not offer some explanation.”

          “Will your absence really be that noticeable among the trillion people here?” 

          “Yes, actually. Which is why you can’t mess it up.”

          He sighed, and leaning just so into your touch. “Alright. I guess you’re a sickly brat I’m babysitting, then.” You could feel the tension receding from his shoulders and neck. There was a growing temptation to abandon the braid and instead rub circles along his back and neck. What taut and firm muscles would you find there? What sounds would he make?

          “So, does my babysitter have a name?”

          “Excuse me?” You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the confusion in his voice.

          The first three braids were done, and the fourth was coming along nicely. “I can’t call you Kylo Ren, so you need to choose something else.” You could only imagine the Senator Madmund’s face if you had introduced the fearsome Kylo Ren. Would the older man piss himself or scream? “The sooner you decide, the sooner we can both remember it.” You pinned the fourth strand in and started portioning hair for the fifth. “So, what’s your name?”

          “Ben.” His words came too quickly and you smiled out of sight.

          “Well then, _Ben_ ,” the tips of his ears burned as you finished up the final braid and moved back, “let me know what you think of your hair.” Ren got to his feet and surveyed his new style in the full-length mirror. There was a burst of something dark—not quite anger—in his eyes before he turned back to face you, his usual frown in place. You couldn’t understand why. Kylo Ren was a surprisingly good-looking man behind his mask, but your new escort, Ben, was disarmingly handsome. Even you couldn’t help but feel flustered.

          He didn’t look at you as he moved towards the galley, refusing to respond to your question. Before he closed the blast door, he peered over his shoulder, opening his mouth, but he closed it just as quickly and left you.

          As soon as the door slid shut, you could feel mischief pulling up the corners of your lips. He had given it to you so unequivocally, like an offering, without thinking. 

_Ben_ had given you his real name.

_Ben._ The name rang in your ears like bells. Whether they were alarm bells or celebratory, it didn’t matter. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place you almost regretted the credits you had spent on the agent. 

 

* * *

 

_Whatever game the Supreme Leader was playing at, Kylo was losing. His heart was threatening to smash through his ribcage as he slunk into one of the cushions in the galley. How was he supposed to survive a mission alone with her if he couldn’t help but give up his name, his real name, after a mere day unsupervised? He could still feel the ghost of her fingers stroking his hair, making his stomach flip. No one had touched him so gently, so intimately, in so long. And she had done so without pause. He had almost let his head fall back against her chest, wanting to encourage more of her saccharine touches to his neglected skin. It was different from the ravenous pawing and grinding he usually succumbed to in her presence. He fantasized her running her hands along his jaw, rubbing his neck, soothing him with her hands until he curled up into her lap._

_Not that he wasn't fighting the need to push her down into the bed. Whoever was responsible for her wardrobe needed to be executed before they ruined Kylo any further. Even though fabric covered almost every inch of her skin, it did so half-heartedly. The shimmering gold material was an extension of the designs on her face, covered in an elaborate pattern of large cut-outs that were near-translucent, and the dress hugged her body like a lover’s embrace. Her skin was whispering to him from beneath the fabric, begging him to strip her down, wrap around her in the gown’s place. It would have been so easy to reach for her, to peel the gold gossamer back away from her soft body, and help himself to a taste of every inch he revealed. She probably would have let him if the night in the training room was any indication._

_Shame pulsed through Kylo’s body. He recalled the Supreme Leader’s question in the throne room._

_“I wonder what you were up to, Kylo?”_

_Snoke knew._

_There was no way his master didn’t know._

_Normally, Kylo would have been training at that hour, taking time to build muscle and endurance to complement his training with the Force. He hardly slept, so right after he rose in the morning was the best time to test his physical limits. No, instead of developing his strength, he had been giving into weakness. Dreams had guided him into the refresher, had guided his hands. Dreams saturated with the sensation of the training floor against his knees, a leg curling around his lower back, the sound of needy moans._

_He buried his head in his hands. The panic he experienced as he left the shower to discover the summons from the Supreme Leader was still fresh, even after a night tossing and turning on the transport. Kylo was supposed to be developing control, particularly over her, and instead he wanted her so wretchedly that he relented to savor just the memory of her. What would his master think? Could Snoke sense what was happening, could he sense Kylo’s growing weakness? Was that why he summoned his apprentice so suddenly?_

_When Kylo saw the counselor rushing towards the lift as well, he feared the worst, but a small part of him entertained the notion that perhaps she had been roused from the same activity. He knew that he wasn’t alone in his desire. Even if he was losing control, she wasn’t gaining it. As he probed her mind on the floor, her hunger and insistence burned him. RC was so saturated in lust for him, he could taste it. Even the memory of Mero inside her was sticky with thoughts of Kylo. It was her need for him that pleased him most of all, because while Kylo Ren was the most feared man in the galaxy, Ben Solo wanted to belong. Ben wanted to belong to her._  


 

* * *

 

          The yacht docked at the Grand Coruscant Hotel in 500 Republica just as the sun was setting over the metallic sea of endless ecumenopolis. Although hidden from the light of the prime star, Galactic City was still a shimmering jewel. The small crew assisted in bringing your luggage out before returning to the ship, setting up in the starship hangar. They would remain there until the mission was complete. As soon as your toes breached the entrance, a valet was gingerly collecting your luggage and a droid was at your side with a colorful refreshment. You didn’t check-in to the Grand: they knew if you were meant to be there as soon as you entered air space.

          “This is a waste of credits. We could have stayed elsewhere. Not like there’s a shortage of places to go around here.” Ren fidgeted past a massive fountain and his posture was so uncomfortable it made you nervous.

          You declined the beverage as you moved towards the lift, not sparing a glance for the commander. “I’m paying for it, so shut up.”

          “You’re paying for this? How?” His incredulity was merited. You certainly couldn’t afford this type of lifestyle on First Order pay. The few days you had booked at the hotel cost the same as your secret safe house in the Outer Rim. His eyes narrowed, but you stopped him before you could he could make any accusations.

          “The same way I got our tickets. The same way I can afford you.” You hoped that the pointed stare would remind him that the valet had ears and a mouth if your words didn’t. When he didn’t respond, you guessed your intentions hit their mark. Ren was clearly not suited for incognito missions or spying. Not that you ever would have guessed as much given his temper.

          Soon the elevator stopped and you were brought to your rooms, the doors opening after a vein scan of your hand. Inside was an immaculate room of white marble and blue tile, filled with bright green plants. Topiary additions to the room were just another decadence you could feel Ren tense at, but you paid him no mind—the room was decorated for you. The valet brought your things through a set of french doors that must have led to your room, before leaving with a bow and a tip, as Ren investigated the room. At least he had that instinct for a bodyguard.

          After he had made a perimeter check, he joined you in your suite where you had been unpacking your bags: A few gowns, baubles, MH3’s travel charging station, tactical gear, and a blaster. “Do you really need all of this?”

          “The blaster? Well, I’m not taking chances after our last date.” 

          He rolled his eyes, but you caught his eyelid twitching in mild distress. “No—I mean—Do you really need all of this?” He waved his hands across the room. “There are far too many rooms for two people.”

          Given the sparse accommodations and even sparser aesthetic of the First Order, you imagined that Ren had little experience with high society standards. “We’ll be entertaining guests tomorrow. And possibly tonight.”

          “Tonight?”

          The new tension that pushed into his shoulders didn’t escape you as you moved to put the gowns in the closet and your blaster under the bed. “Most of these people go to galas to be seen. They party afterwards.”

          When you went to set up MH3’s charging station in the refresher, he formed a blockade between you and the other room. You couldn’t parse the motivation in his scowl. “No one is going to be ‘partying’ here.”

          His jealousy was starting to annoy you, even if it was exactly what you wanted. “You are welcome to turn abstain, Ren, but I make no promises for myself.” With that, you pushed past him, ignoring the flustered groan he made as he stalked away to take a seat at your bed. A spoiled man-child if you had ever met one. 

          “When are we leaving?”

          You checked in the mirror one last time, making sure the gold leaf around your eyes was secure. “Now. A speeder will be waiting for us down in the lobby.”

 

* * *

 

          The ride from the hotel to the gala was stifling. Ren’s lips tightened the closer to the arts district you were, and you knew that if he had been wearing gloves, the sound of squeezing leather would have filled the cabin of the speeder. Instead, you watched as he clenched his fist until his knuckles whitened in the seat beside you.

          “You’re going to give yourself a hernia if you don’t ease up.” Not like you had room to talk. Despite your calm expression, you had been slowly nursing a whiskey. Once you arrived at the Gala, you would be the one exposing secrets, vulnerable spots in your armor. The exposure had always been in your future; it was arguably essential if you were going to get close enough to Ren to cause discord as you were so ordered, but that didn’t make it any more appetizing. Too soon the speeder was pulling up to the entrance of the event. You elbowed Ren at your side.

          “You can’t be serious,” Ren groaned.

          “No, I’m joking and it totally would look normal for me to open the door when I have a hired man at my side.” Either your deadpan expression or logic won him over, but he still rolled his eyes as he began to shift in his seat.

          “I’m starting to think you are lying to me, Counselor. If I find out this is just an elaborate plan to have me waiting on you hand and foot-”

          “You can Force choke me, sure. Just move.” Best to get it over with. 

          Without a retort, he exited the speeder and moved around the vehicle to open your door. As soon as you exited, your hand delicately resting on Ren’s—a surprising gesture—you were peppered with flashes and questions. You squeezed on impulse, trying to savor the last moment of obscurity with him, and he caught your gaze. Brown eyes tried to excavate the truth from yours, bewildered at the vulnerability that was sneaking out through your own. You stuffed it back down, dropping his hand as you glided to the steps. 

          Most of the holocams abandoned you as soon as they decided you weren’t of interest, but a few lingered, recognizing your face. Soon, one of them would say your name, and there would be no escape from the great maw. A timer on an armed warhead. You counted the seconds to obliteration. And it came not from one of the fiending paparazzi, but further up on the steps, as you recognized a socialite waddling down to you in a monstrosity of an evening gown, beaming.

          “Lady Valek! It is you!"  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But seriously, feel free to Force Choke me, Daddy Kylo.
> 
> Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but unfortunately school is a demanding mistress. Thank you for your continued readership, patience, and support! Your comments keep me going! As a reward for being awesome, get ready for some DRAMA in the next chapter.
> 
> xoxoxo<3


	14. Patronage of the Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You arrive at the Gala, finally getting to flex your skills and show Ren a thing or two. Too bad an unexpected guest threatens to ruin everything.
> 
>           “And who is this handsome man with you?” His eyes darted to the near-fusion of Ren’s hand on your back. Ren recoiled, the observation resulted in abrupt fission. “I am Orris Madmund, Senator of this shining jewel.” The Senator reached for a political handshake, but you saw that his reach was for information, to assert power.
> 
>           Ren started to react on instinct, sensing the threat, but you intercepted his response. “This is Ben, my bodyman.” Probing brown eyes sharpened at your response, but he stepped behind you. _That’s right, Ren_. _Calm the stars down and observe_. 

 

       If there was any question about the evening’s theme, it vanished as soon as you walked into the Core Worlds Institute for the Arts. The museum was gilded from the marble floor all the way up to the towering ceiling. Lights trapezed between sparkling fixtures and massive installations. The anchor masterpieces remained in their usual positions--famous paintings and holovids that gave the location its prominence--but even they had a new golden glow. Most spectacular, however, were the attendees, each having preened their feathers in an attempt to win the evening. Too bad there wasn’t an outfit in the galaxy that could take attention away from your arrival.

       A small throng of sycophants had formed around you, each one trying to seem more delighted by your presence or more sympathetic to your supposed illness.

       “I’ve missed you so much these past months!”

       “If I had known of your illness, Lady Valek,  I would have sent my personal physician to attend you. No finer doctor in the galaxy.”

        “Your gown is simply stunning, Your Ladyship.”

       “We missed you at Canto Bight for the Grand Prix. It just isn’t worth the trip without your usual salon party.”

       “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

       There was only so much artificial pleasantry you could stomach. “Thank you, really. I’m much better. No need to be concerned.” Except for the concern of a sharp jab to the windpipe. Each comment elicited a fantasy about the move Phasma showed you. You had forgotten how much you hated the social circuit. Wandering through a muggy jungle sounded like a vacation. 

       Remembering your escort, you constructed an excuse. “Ben,” you turned your attention behind you, “you said I had an engagement upstairs? Let’s head there.” He quirked an eyebrow, and the smallest smirk tipped his thick lips, but he stepped aside. His hulking frame made a great human barricade as you retreated. Only when you safely made it to the upper balcony did you let a small groan out.

       “I thought you loved this kind of attention?” He leaned against a column, taking joy in your exhaustion.

       “Yes, having my ear gnawed off by a bunch of rich pricks is the height of ecstasy.” You waved down a server for a glass of sparkling wine. You threw one glass back before snapping up another, hoping to alleviate the stress of publicity.

       “Maybe we should bring them up here then?” The tease in his voice was unmistakable, and you realized that he was smiling. Actually smiling. Well, maybe it was a smirk but it was the closest thing you could expect from the man. Your fluttering stomach certainly couldn’t tell the difference, and a rogue hiccup popped up. Then he laughed, sounding mischievous instead of cruel. Maybe you should have paced yourself with the wine.

       “Glad someone’s enjoying themselves,” you muttered.

       He studied you for a moment—it was so odd to watch his face run through a myriad of expressions instead of cursing a blank mask—before he turned serious. “Why do they keep calling you ‘Lady Valek?’”

       It was an unavoidable conversation, but you were going to try your damndest to do so. To your advantage, the commander had been living under a rock and didn’t recognize what the words meant. Despite who ‘Ben’ could well be, he wasn’t well-versed in Core World politics. Surprising. Maybe he wasn’t who you suspected. The Supreme Leader was right in sending him with you if there were such gaps in his knowledge. Still, you weren’t ready for him to know, to see you differently, so you chose to stay as cryptic as possible, for as long as possible. “It’s my title. I don’t exactly run around calling myself Rex Consular of the First Order.”

       “So it’s not a cover? There’s not some actual Lady Valek stowed away in the _Supremacy_ whose identity you’ve stolen?”

       You cocked your hip. “What do you think?”

       From the look he gave you, he could tell you were side-stepping the conversation, but was letting it slide. “If you have, I’m sure the real Lady is happy that you’re here instead.”

       Commander Ren was about as fun as summer on Hoth, but Ben had a pleasant sense of humor. And a roguish smile to match. You realized that you had seen glimpses of Ben before, breaking through the rage and ambition of Kylo Ren, on Kiffu. The Commander hadn’t always been joyless. You could only imagine what ten years with Snoke had done to him. 

       Pushing your theories away, you began scanning the crowd. “Regardless of who I am, we have some business to attend to. Have you seen the Chiss contact or the Senator?”

        “As luck would have it, I did see Captain Sloz'etul'usdum down the hall. I have yet to locate Senator Madmund.” 

       “I’m impressed that you remembered Zetulus’s full name, _Ben._ ” Show off. 

       He sniggered when he caught you glaring at him. “Of course, _my lady_.”

       The Chiss Captain was easy to spot. Chiss Ascendancy and their Defense Fleet rarely engaged in Core World society, so the sapphire color of his skin and deep red sclerae were striking among the sea of gold. Zetulus, despite his pedigree, had... _tastes_ and ambitions beyond his own species. He also recently inherited controlling shares in a large military transport company and came from a family close to the Aristocra. You made sure that your hips swayed as you approached the officer, taking his attention from the Chagrian couple he had been conversing with. 

       “Captain Zetulus, I had hoped to run into you. We haven’t had the pleasure of being introduced, but I am Lady Valek,” you extended your hand forward.

       Instead of the firm handshake you were expecting, the officer scooped up your palm and kissed your hand. “No, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, Your Ladyship, but I welcome it now.” Well, that confirmed the rumors. The Changrians were forgotten your hand lingered on his.“Now—why were you hoping to meet me? Don’t you Valek usually avoid military types?”

       “My family avoids politics, but I’m a bit more open-minded about who I consort with.”

       He released your hand but not before stepping closer to your side. “Consorting with a Valek? Consider it an honor.”

       “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Captain. I said I’m open-minded to the idea, not that I would.”

       “Well, how can I help with your decision? I must say I’m very interested in the idea of consorting.” The mission brief had been accurate: Playboy. Ambitious. Forward. Probably would spend his newfound wealth on women if not provided direction. You could provide direction. 

       You kept an eye on the other attendees. “I believe you spoke with our mutual acquaintance, Senator Ro-Kiintor, about a business proposal.”

       “A business proposal?”

       “Concerning the deficient supply of durasteel in Chiss territory.”

       At first, he seemed blindsided by the statement, as if he denied the fact itself, not just your knowledge of it, but the revelation came to him. His eyes widened, then narrowed, a wicked grin revealing his teeth. “You’re involved with them?”

       “I’m involved with several things, like the recent acquisition of a large zersium deposit near the Unknown Regions.” _Where we’re in control, Captain._  “If you’re interested in that sort of thing, join me for lunch tomorrow at the Grand.” 

       Zetulus paused, absorbing what you were offering, then nodded. “I graciously accept your invitation, ladyship.”

       “Wonderful. I’ll let you return to your evening then.”

       A blue hand wrapped around your wrist before you could depart, gently pulling you back to the Captain’s attention. You could feel Ren bristle behind you, trying to decide if such contact was permissible. “If I had known you were going to leave so quickly I would have stalled my answer. Might I enjoy your company a little longer?” Scarlet eyes were so focused on your chest he might as well be trying to create a topographic map of the region.

       You squeezed his hand on your wrist, coaxing him to release you. “Don’t take it as a personal slight, Captain. There are, unfortunately, a few contacts I need to make before I can enjoy the night.”

       He wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Later this evening, then? I’m told that you host quite the after-party.”

       “My lady, Senator Madmund.” Ren’s hand rested on your lower back. Far too familiar for a bodyguard, especially given how close he brought his mouth to your ear, his voice low. Despite his cool demeanor, you could feel a twitch of irritation in his touch. Swallowing your sudden nerves, you followed his gaze to the Centrist politician.  

       “Duty calls. But don’t worry, you’ll have my full attention tomorrow.” The Chiss officer frowned, but bowed in defeat.

       Pushing you with more force than necessary, Ren maneuvered you through the crowd, keeping his hand firmly in place. The contact made your skin itch and your nerves crackle. The contact was unacceptable, caught the attention of too many eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself move his hand. Both of you wove through the party until you came to the tall, dark man. His take on the gala’s theme was more subdued, gold trim and clasps adorning the sweeping green robes that curved around his portly frame. Unlike Ro-Kintorr, Madmund wasn’t a gaudy egoist or easily corrupted. Snoke sent you to earn an ally from a reasonable, but ambitious man. 

       The Junior Senator noticed your approach, his arms extending in welcome. “Lady Valek, I heard a rumor you had been spotted. So glad to have you back at home!” At one time in your life, you would have believed him to be a jovial, fatherly figure. The man you knew as a child was always warm and regularly brought presents on his visits, but that was just a thin veneer, easily peeled back to reveal a shrewd and cold strategist. He also knew your true nature. 

       “Senator, it is good to be home.”

       “And who is this handsome man with you?” His eyes darted to the near-fusion of Ren’s hand on your back. Ren recoiled, the observation resulted in abrupt fission. “I am Orris Madmund, Senator of this shining jewel.” The Senator reached for a political handshake, but you saw that his reach was for information, to assert power.

       Ren started to react on instinct, sensing the threat, but you intercepted his response. “This is Ben, my bodyman.” Probing brown eyes sharpened at your response, but he stepped behind you. _That’s right, Ren_. _Calm the stars down and observe_. 

       “Ah, well, then he won’t mind if we take a little stroll? There’s a balcony where I can show you a new development project I’m working on, and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to.”

       You wove into his offered arm and exchanged pleasantries, moving through the crowd like old friends eager to catch up. No one questioned why you had the politician’s sole attention, or how you moved to a secluded balcony—just because your house avoided public affiliations didn’t mean you weren’t cozy with the government of your home planet. You were the perfect tool for the Supreme Leader’s designs.

       When you arrived at the overlook, the Senator released your arm, using his to make a grand gesture at the construction site ahead of you. Cranes and lifts worked through the night to bring a rising spire above the surrounding skyline. Such a site would have impressed you, had you not witnessed Starkiller base. You feigned a smile.

       “It’s the new headquarters for HoloNet. It should be the most advanced communications complex in the galaxy when it’s completed.”

       You sipped at your drink, trying to hide your knowing smile. “The people of Coruscant must be very excited. Congratulations.” 

       There was hesitancy in his voice, like his admission would give you power. “It has certainly helped my standing, and it will mean a hundred thousand new jobs, give or take.”

       “I guess the concerns of economic recession have eased up, then?”

       “They certainly have.” The skyscraper was more than a building for the planet, but a beacon of hope. The Senator turned back to you, his expression hard, but not aggressive. “I’m not a fool. I know that your people aided in the privatization of HoloNet. What I can’t understand is why.”

       “Why we assisted, or why we placed you at the front of the campaign?”

       “Both. The Empire used HoloNet like a weapon. Even the Republic did. Why is the First Order letting such a valuable state property go private? If your goal is control of the Republic territories, HoloNet would be a valuable acquisition.” He was right. The state communications company gave the government control of any narrative, whether it was the Empire or the Rebellion. When the First Order took control of the Core Worlds, it could have been a huge victory. But that would be ignorant of the bigger picture. 

       “If you haven’t noticed, Senator, we aren’t the Empire. Our military may look the same, but the people leading it are very different. We aren’t against privatization or independent markets, we just believe that a strong centralized government is the key to regulation and justice.” That, and it wasn’t like the Order wouldn’t control it through buying shares and manipulation of its lead officers. A private company would give the Order that much more legitimacy. 

       “I said the same thing in my speech.”

       “I know. One of the reasons you have our support. Your ideals are not so different from ours.”

       Madmund paused at the railing, clearly trying to parse what was genuine. “What’s the catch, Counselor?”

       “There’s no catch, Senator. We support those who share our goals.” And those who could be amenable to a new regime. Was the Order ruthless? Yes. Did it also have a reasonable vision that could be shared with reasonable men? Absolutely. “However, I hope that you can pledge your support to us. The First Order is inevitable, and we will come for the Core eventually.”

       Darkness washed his features. “So there will be war.”

       You sighed. While everyone spoke of peace in the galaxy as some default state, it was a lie. There was always war and violence somewhere in the galaxy. Why were the Jedi Knights of the Old Republic trained with lightsabers if not because violence was a constant in a disordered galaxy? Sure, there were forces outside the galaxy that would prod into the outer systems on occasion, but that wasn’t why the Republic had a fleet of warships. It was ignorant to not acknowledge that war was the inevitable path to progress.

       “It is hard to make changes at a galactic scale without it. And the Resistance continues to launch preemptive offenses. I hear they are draining resources from the New Republic fleet.”

       He spun around to give you a scowl, but you could see the trepidation in his eyes. “I cannot make such a public pledge.” _Yet._ That word was silent, but you heard it clear enough. 

       “I’m not asking for it now.” You placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. “We aren’t looking to come out of the shadows yet. It’s not time. But when we do, we will need smart men like you talking to the Republic on our behalf. It could be what keeps millions alive.”

       “It will be the same as the Empire then.”

       “No. Look at me. Look at Ben—another leading commander in the Order.” Ren hesitantly stepped forward, nodding. You weren’t saying which commander he was, but he was still illustrative of your point. “The First Order is full of young, hungry, intelligent individuals looking to protect the future of the galaxy from the dying breed that clings to the Old Republic.”

       After a weighted pause, surrounded by the bustling night and the citizenry he had sworn to protect, he answered. “I will think about this. Let us speak more after the next session on Hosnian Prime.”

       Hopefully your smile wasn’t too victorious. You were an artist, after all. “That’s fine, Senator. Just don’t start supporting those lunatics in the Resistance and continue to act as you have been. We have a little bit of time left.”

       “And how much time is—“

       “Sweet cousin, I didn’t know you were planetside.” Your skin crawled. _He_ wasn’t supposed to attend.

       The Senator beamed at the uninvited guest over your shoulder. “Your Grace! How felicitous that you are here.” Turning, you watched as the lantern glow illuminated a tall man dressed in dark swirling robes, a man whose face you knew as well as your own. You were instantly trapped by pale blue eyes so bright they glowed in the dark. He had short, oil-slick hair that was pushed back, and features that were too sharp to be anything but domineering: the Valek bloodline in every regard. Your looks had always favored your mother’s, sharing similarities with him mostly in skin tone and nose, though his were paler and thinner next to yours. 

       “Senator,” he gave a half-hearted nod to the elder, then returned his gaze to yours. “Your absence has been far prolonged, cousin. I have missed you.” You couldn’t stop him from pulling you close, pressing his lips to your forehead. Your stomach churned at the sensation of his mouth on your skin like you had swallowed wet silt from a marsh. As he pulled back, you saw that one of the gold flakes MH3 applied was stuck to his lip. Leering, he tugged it off with his thumb and licked it off the digit, his silver tongue ring flashing.

       You fought the waiver from your voice. “Hello, Al’lyr. I didn’t know you would be here.”

       “I hadn’t planned on attending, but something pulled me here. I now see it was providence.” His eyes could peel back flesh from bone, letting him peer at the soul inside. Looking into his pupils had the same effect as staring out into the emptiness of space: all-consuming and devoid of mercy.

       The politician tried to insert himself into the conversation again. “How fortuitous. Actually, since you are here, your Grace, I was hoping to introduce you to some individuals?”

       Al’lyr ignored the Senator, his attention devoted to studying your face and petting your cheek. “You should have notified the Estate you were traveling here. Where are you staying? I’ll call for your effects to be brought over immediately.”

       You swatted his hand away. “I’m not coming to the Estate, Al’lyr. I’ll be leaving soon.”

       His lips pulled in to a thin line, hand hovering just outside your personal space as if he was considering backhanding you. You stepped backward, conditioned to flinch.  Sensing the changing current, and recognizing there was no advantage for himself, Madmund mumbled a disappointed parting before rushing for cover back inside the party.

       The muscle under Al’lyr’s eye twitched. “ _She_ won’t be pleased.”

       “My stay will be brief so she won’t know.”

       “You won’t be able to breach the atmosphere without making a visit. Not after I tell Omi how bad you’ve been.” Kriff. From the way he said it, you knew it wasn’t a threat, but the truth.

       “Of course you would stoop to snitching.” 

       You were less than an arm’s length apart, but he managed to step closer. “Cousin, I am the Heir Apparent. A modicum of respect is due, no matter how much Omi indulges you.”

       “The word respect and you don’t belong in the same breath.” You hissed back at him, trying to forget the quiver of your hand around your glass.

       “How insolent you’ve become, sweet cousin. Perhaps I should drag you back home myself.” He moved to grab you again, lip curled in fury.

       “Don’t touch her!” You had somehow forgotten your protector, but suddenly your body was tucked under his arm, chest pressed against his cerulean robes, his body shielding you.

       “What do you think you are doing, oaf?”

       Ren still hadn’t released you; if anything, he had pulled you tighter. You wondered if he could feel you shaking. “Breaking your arm, if necessary.”

       He would, you knew he would, and that would cause more problems than you could handle. “Ben.” 

       When he didn’t look down at you, too busy flashing his teeth, you repeated yourself, placing your hand against his sternum. It was nice to be protected, even if by a man who threatened your safety and sanity as a hobby, but you needed him to release you. He finally looked down, rage softening to annoyance as he let you slip out of his hold.

       “As delightful as this has been, Al’lyr, my drink is empty,” you dumped the contents of your glass over the balcony, “so I’m going to get another one.” 

       You didn’t look over your shoulder as you retreated back into the crowded museum, but you knew that his tongue was dragging over his lips from the bloodlust in his tone: “I’ll be waiting for you, cousin.”

 

* * *

 

       Not even the throng of attendees spouting hot air by the bar could take the chill from your bones. At least your stormy expression warded off any attempts at small talk. You hardly noticed Ren hovering behind you until he spoke. “You seem to have a thing for showing up authority figures.”

       “Oh?”

       His face remained stoic but the deep hum of his voice hinted at sarcasm. “It seems you’re not just disrespectful with me.” A scintilla of a smile came and went.

       You could only scoff in response. “Al’lyr can choke on respect for all I care.”

       “I would have choked him if you had let me.” He said it so matter-of-factly that you had to chuckle at the thought. If there was one thing that you knew Kylo Ren was good for, it was unrestrained violence. You wondered if he really would have killed your cousin. Probably, but probably for himself rather than feeling protective of you.  But it was beside the point.

       “No. I wouldn’t let you hurt my cousin, even if he is about as pleasant as a rancor’s ass.” Bad blood aside, he was the heir apparent to your house and your blood. _Blood is thicker than water_. An old Corellian phrase, fittingly macabre and the unofficial motto of House Valek. It didn’t stop you from hating him. Or from feeling a little envious of a parallel universe where Ren threw him off the balcony. Being wrapped up in the commander’s arm had offered more comfort than you expected. 

       “Thank you. For protecting me.”

       Ren gave you a quizzical look. You hoped your makeup hid your blush. “I was under the impression that was my job.”

       “I didn’t actually expect you to. Color me surprised.” Your tone was probably a bit too sarcastic, but he simply shrugged, as if he too had been surprised. 

       Your attention returned to the swaths of partygoers, looking for familiar faces when a deep cough pulled your attention back to Ren. “Why are you so afraid of him? You were more on edge than when Tofar held a knife to your neck.”

       Biting your lip, you tried to pull a satisfactory answer from the air. “It’s easy to know where I stand with a knife to my neck. With Al’lyr, it’s never clear. He may hold out a cup of friendship, but it’s just as likely poisoned. Worst of all, he knows he’s smarter than everyone around him and it makes him insufferable.”

       “And here I thought you hated me.” That smirk was back. It was doing devious things in your mind. 

       “I wouldn’t say that.”

       You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. They had sounded far too vulnerable and delicate, and Ren was giving you a curious expression. “I—I have other contacts to make. Besides, I’m supposed to be seen mingling.”

       There were, thankfully, other contacts to make, as well as some posturing. Neither of you initiated conversation again as you worked your way through the labyrinth of guests. Artists seeking patronage, or those who already claimed some from your family, made sure to ask your thoughts on the display, to compliment your makeup. Many were obviously upset that a droid had concocted the effect, but didn’t speak it. You also established a few additional meetings for the next day, some nervous about what you might want to discuss. They were right to be nervous. 

       Finally, you had completed your rounds and made your way to the exit. A few hours among the artifice was enough to run you ragged. You directed Ren to follow you to the speeder pick up, intent on getting back to the room and out of your clothes. The thin gold threads had started to itch.

       “Where are you headed, lady?” Daedrel Onglo. Her mother was rumored to have revived Wandering Star, accounting for the family’s sudden surge in wealth and connections. The Pau’an female was a notorious wild child.

       “Back to my lodgings. I’ve seen the museum enough times to be satisfied with a few hours.”

       “The night is still young! We’re all headed to a party at a new club in the Garden View district; you should join us!” She motioned to the cluster of socialites with her, some of whom you recognized. 

       “Well, I’ve only arrived planetside today, and I’m a little tired from my journey.”

       “But it’s been ages since we’ve seen you! You never miss a party!” Sharp teeth flashed in her smile. The look she was giving you was downright predatory. Figured that the carnivorous woman would smell your weakness and try to paint you as no longer suitable for their social gatherings. Not that it mattered, but your pride twisted uncomfortably under your skin. 

       “I suppose I don’t. And it’s rare that I get to Garden View.”

       “We need to return.” The commander’s words were clipped, and the absence of a salutation caught the onlookers’ attention. Not good. Ren was acting far too familiar for a bodyman, and you had spotted Resistance agents in the crowd. Even if you were relatively certain of your unaffiliated status in their intelligence, there were murmurs in Resistance communications about a high society member negotiating on behalf of the Order. No need to bring attention to yourself in any way.

       Bringing him aside with a sharp jerk of his tunic you kept your voice low. “It will be a short diversion. It’s fine.”

       “A few hours on the town wouldn’t be too much for her Ladyship, I’m sure.” Ugh! What was her angle? Surely she wasn’t trying to make a status jump in such a petty way? 

       Ren’s breath was hot on your face as he bent down to glare at you and you could see the corner of his lip twitching. The petulant child was coming out. “We’ve been here long enough. I would be more confident about your _health_ and _safety_ if we returned to your suite, my lady.” Your title was almost lost behind his grinding teeth.

       You tried to communicate how he needed to shut up until they were alone with a pointed look. “She’s right, Ben. It would be very _out of character_ for me not to attend. People will be _curious_.”

       He either wasn’t reading your signals or ignoring them. “Then let them. My job is to keep you safe, not to watch you placate these parasites!” Now he was definitely out of line. You had to respond.

       Your fingers balled into his tunic. “Let me make this transparently clear, _Ben_ : You’re here to protect me, not order me around. I am in charge. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better.” 

       Pure fury, the kind only Kylo Ren, Jedi Killer, could conjure, pulsed underneath his skin. You watched his artery jump under the thin skin of his neck. If looks could kill, you and the rest of the three trillion inhabitants of the planet would be ash. It was a miracle that he didn’t reveal his lightsaber and gut you in front of everyone present. Were you still on the  _Supremacy or_  the _Finalizer,_  you were certain you would be coughing up blood.

       “Of course, my lady.” The words that pushed through his closed teeth were clear: _Once we’re out of sight, you’re going to wish I would kill you._

       “Get us a speeder to Garden View.” You turned your back to him, focusing on Daedrel and the gaggle of socialites. Most of them were clearly shocked by your exchange but tried to pretend they weren’t gaping at the lack of propriety.

       Her black eyes leered down at you, seemingly pleased that she had a claim to your evening. “Glad you’ll be joining us. I promise you won’t ever want to leave Coruscant afterward.” She just wanted to show that she was important enough to drag you around. Bitch.

       A chubby Twi’lek chimed in. “I don’t know, I heard the entertainment was a Jizz band?” 

       “I like Jizz music, thank you very much.” The conversation eased, discussing the new club and whether or not it was overhyped or the new “it” social venue. Apparently, there was a large aquarium at the center that you were already fantasizing tossing both Ren and the Pau’an woman into. Maybe it had sharks in it.

       “There’s a speeder ready, my lady.” His sour tone slipped over your shoulder, and you turned to see a black limo at the base of the steps. 

       “We’ll see you there, Daedrel.” 

       Perhaps remembering his role in your farce, Ren opened the door to the black luxury speeder for you, though a raw, commanding expression still lingered in his eyes.  You slid into the back seat, careful not to touch him. Ren didn’t slide in beside you, though, instead ducking down to lean against the cabin divider and the driver just beyond it. 

       “Take us to the Grand. Step on it.” Ren threw a handful of credits at the man and slammed the privacy window shut.

       Of course he wasn’t going to cooperate. Whatever possessed you to think that Ren would listen to anything you said? “Maker, Ren! Are you going to be this fucking pissant?”

       “Shut up.” 

       Not in a Corellian sunset. “What? Can’t stand when things don’t go your way? Well, guess what? I’m—”

       The privacy window rattled as Ren’s fist slammed against it, startling the driver upfront into sharply veering the vehicle. You could only imagine how many credits Ren had given the driver when he didn’t investigate the disruption. The young commander’s fist was still pressed against the forward wall of the compartment, chest heaving as he looked to where you had pressed up against the door on your side. You expected his face to be contorted in rage, not what was in front of you. 

       Although his brown eyes were often indecipherable, there was no mistaking what burned there: need. “Please,” there was a whine beneath the growl as he gritted his teeth, “please, shut up.” 

       The words bubbled up, out of your mouth before you could think about the consequences. “Are you sure you want me to shut up, _Ben_?”

       Snarling, Ren bared down on you, his mouth devouring your own. He didn’t kiss with his lips, but his whole body. Wherever he could make contact with your skin—arms, cheeks, neck, chest, back—he did, pressing so hard you could feel the impression of his fingerprints. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as he pulled you into his lap. If only you weren’t wearing the damn gown, you could have straddled him, found friction to alleviate the quickly building pressure he was drowning you in. 

       “You get off on getting put in your place, or the way I say your name, _Ben_?”

       “Talk to me like that again, I dare you.” He spat out the threat but his touch was begging, pleading for more.

       You struggled to string words together as he bit at your neck, but they were there, full of sweet derision. “I think you need someone to put you down before you can get it up.”

       The statement earned a frustrated growl, more ferocity in his touch. You cupped Ren’s face with both hands, stemming his assault. Every heaving breath was laced with lust, fatal to your self-control. Was this what you were meant to do? You didn’t know if he was burning, but you were on fire. 

       Catching your thumb in his mouth, he took greedy sucks, eyelids shuttering as he moaned around the digit. “Tell me what you want, Ben. I want to hear you beg for it.”

       Large hands captured your own as his eyes shot open, his brown irises almost eclipsed by lustful pupils. 

       “I want you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this chapter I kept thinking of this:  
> [via GIPHY](https://giphy.com/gifs/love-gold-iphone-lOiJqCjiEOcmc)
> 
> Also, things are about to get very very steamy.


	15. Heat & Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Ren return to the Grand to continue your verbal sparring.

         Bruises formed where the beads and details of your gown were sandwiched between your back and the metal door. The way Ren had you mashed against the lift, the material was going to embed into your skin, but it was hard to care. As soon as the door to the lift closed, he was fisting your hair and forcing his tongue behind your teeth again and again. You tried to retaliate, to come at him with equal savagery, but your fitted gown prevented anything more than frustrated squirming. 

         Suddenly, his hands abandoned you and you heard knees hitting the floor of the lift. Before you could clarify his intentions, or more importantly, protest them, he fisted the hem of your gown and yanked. _Hard_. A massive tear exploded across the expensive fabric all the way to your hips, spewing gold and crystal beads to bounce off the walls and floor. The gown was ruined, but it meant Ren was able to expose your leg to his attentions, licking at the inside of your knee.

         “I’ve wanted to do that all night.” He pressed his words into the naked flesh as your fingers crept across his mussed braids. 

         “Really? I thought it looked good,” you teased.

         “Too good.” Your smirk vanished with a yelp at the sharp bite on your inner thigh. Ren’s teeth sunk in for a moment more but were replaced by a warm tongue lathing over the throbbing impression. “Everyone was looking at you, wanted you,” he huffed. 

         “That was the point of the outfit.” When you tried to reach for his jaw, to summon his wicked mouth back to your own, your hands were flung up above your head. 

         “None of that.” Even as one lazy gesture forced your submission, his focus was at your hips. His thick fingers fumbled and pulled at the delicate fabric, struggling to reach all the sweet and wet and tender places. The remaining stitches firmly resisted. “Wanted to take you right there, show him who you belonged to.”

         The sight of Kylo Ren, Jedi Killer, struggling to force his hands up your skirt was bizarrely endearing. It was never going to happen: his hands were far too big. “Who I belonged to?”

         After yet another failed attempt to get beneath the boning, Ren changed tactics. Gripping the breach, he tore at the separation again until it spanned up, just under your breast, raining more beads to skitter across the floor. “Don’t be fucking coy. I know you’ve been thinking the same thing,” he growled, successful and hungry to explore further. Shortly after his hand delved below, however, he stilled. You weren’t even sure he was breathing.

         “What have I been thinking?”

         It took him a moment to answer you. He had made an important discovery: you were adamantly opposed to panty lines. Sucking in another breath, he slowly moved his hand over your mound. “About me. About this. About how good I’ll feel _inside_ you.” He stressed the word by tracing his finger down the length of your sex, leaving it to hover just outside your entrance.

         You looked down to see his dark eyes were studying your every movement. The intensity of his gaze singed, caused your mind to almost short-circuit. “I think you’re confusing your thoughts for mine,” you rasped.

         The lift chimed and you attempted to separate yourself from his hold. Attempted. Ren merely slid up your body, taking your legs and wrapping them around his waist as the doors opened. You prayed there was no one in the hall as he carried you out, never ceasing in his attack on your skin. 

         “You want this as much as I do. I know you thought about me when you were making due with my knights.” 

         Underneath his words, hesitancy lingered, like he was attempting to convince himself of their truth. Regardless of the uncertainty in his voice, he somehow managed to navigate to your rooms, force your hand into the vein scanner, and open the door, all while devouring your neck.

         “Been going crazy every minute I couldn’t touch you.” He barely stumbled as he used an invisible hand to open the door to your room. His real hands lifted you up again, setting you down on the bed and out of his hold far too soon. 

         “Then touch me.”

         His expression was torn between fury and pleasure, nostrils flaring, ready to sink his teeth into your neck. Leaning over you, Ren trapped your breasts underneath his massive hands, kneading them from over the shimmering fabric. In a surprisingly gentle movement, he dragged his fingers up to your neckline, only to rip the fabric there as well. 

         “You know, I’m starting to think this is less about touching me and more about destroying my dress.”

         “There weren’t any fasteners,” he muttered, bashfulness leeching his ferocity. 

         You ran your hands over his forearms, guiding his hands on to your bare skin as you leaned back. “Don’t pretend like you would have used them.”

         “Shut up, Counselor.” 

         Whatever clever retort you had conjured remained at the tip of your tongue; it was silenced by Ren’s mouth capturing your nipple. Perfect, thick lips gently tugged and sucked while his broad tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, rending it swollen and tender. Not leaving your other breast idle, his calloused fingers twisted the twin peak. It was different from the time on the _Finalizer_. His movements seemed to experiment and seek what brought you pleasure as opposed to forcing it out of you. 

         The sound of snapping threads pulled you out of your fugue state as Ren joined the two rips, your gown falling along either side of your body. One brawny arm scooped underneath your back as you wriggled out of the ruined garment, but his mouth and free hand continued to survey.  Your own hands pulled on his tunic, jealous of the garments that got to feel his bare skin. 

         “Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

         “You chose not to wear undergarments.” When did he get so cheeky? 

         You gently pressed at his chest. “Please? I want to see you.” You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the prospect.

         Ren groaned, pulling his palm over his face, but relented. As he stood at the edge of the bed, you noticed a hesitation in his movements. He seemed to try and make himself as small as possible as he removed his costume, a spectacular and bizarre attempt he unquestionably failed. Why would he try to hide from your sight, when the more he revealed, the more you struggled to contain yourself? If you ever were sent on an undercover mission together in the future, you were going to have words with whoever arranged clothes: each layer was torture. 

         Eventually, he was down to tight black pants and a white undershirt that should have been criminal. Every detail of his frame was evident, and rosy nipples were pressing against the material. You weren’t shocked that he was fit—the man looked to be as solid as a Resurgent-class star destroyer—but the extent to which he was. You gaped at how his arms and torso were corded with defined muscles, crafted into a thick, beastly frame. He moved to join you again on the bed, but you needed to see more. Shaking your head, you tugged at the undershirt before letting your fingers sneak under to run over his stomach.

         A flush spilled over Ren’s face, all the way to his adorably large ears. “Please,” you purred, letting one hand coax the white modal up as the other kneaded his bulge. His head rolled back as a moan escaped his barrel chest. Stars, considering how big it felt under your hand, you would probably lose consciousness when he unleashed it. His own giant paws joined you to start pulling off the undershirt. You thanked whatever gods existed for the moment when his face was hidden behind the garment, arms flexed above his head, letting you freely gawk. The pose he struck was better than any sculpture you had seen that night at the museum: his skin was pale, but smattered with large, dark freckles. And scars. So many scars. How many stories had been etched onto his skin?

         Despite your certainty that you could spend the rest of the night mapping every dip and curve he had to offer, Ren didn’t let your gaze linger. Your mouths were joined again, an ebb and flow of tender kisses and vicious pulls of teeth. The sensation of his skin across yours was electricity and embers and frozen tundra all at once. Your nerves craved his touch so badly it stung. 

         One of his hands had managed to intertwine with yours, pushing it into the bed while the other had returned to tweaking one of your peaks. The way you were positioned, his length was grinding against you, cruelly restrained by his pants. Why hadn’t you demanded those be removed as well? You hissed as he bit a nipple before continuing down your torso. He kissed over the soft curve of your belly, finally settling with his knees on the floor and his shoulders between your thighs. 

         “Tell me you want me.” It was quiet, like a prayer.

         Flecks of gold leaf were stuck to his face and in the last remnants of his braids, transferred between kisses. His cheeks were flushed crimson, and his eyes were searching, raw.

         “I thought you could read my mind,” you whispered. 

         “Say it.” His voice almost cracked, but his gaze never wavered. You were trapped.

         “I want you.” 

         He rewarded the admission with a groan and kisses along your inner thighs, but he never brought those perfect lips where you needed them. Sensing your frustration, he commanded you again. “Tell me you need me.” His tone was stuck in a place you couldn’t pinpoint, even as he tried to mask it with confidence. Was he angry? Afraid? Did it matter? All you could think of was how much you ached, how you would do anything to have him. 

         “Fuck!” His tongue flicked along the sides of your folds. So close. “I need you. I need you—” you hesitated. Who did you need? Was it Ben, the knight that came out it glimpses? Or was it the adversary, the source of untamed power that he had chosen to be?

         “I need you, Kylo.”

 

* * *

 

_In countless nights in bed and long showers—fuck, even in the cockpit of his Silencer—Kylo had fisted his cock, imagining what it would sound like when she said it. Every time phantasm lips whispered, cried or begged the string of words, he would fall over the edge. He was practically trained to cum at the thought of them. So when she peered down at him, eyes half-lidded with need, and said them in a voice so breathless, he wondered if he was still imagining them._

_“I need you, Kylo.”_

_Not Commander. Not Ren. Not even fucking Ben._

_Kylo._

_Like he picked that name all those years ago just so she could say them._

_He groaned as he delved in between her thighs. She tasted even better than he remembered, slick and tart. The flavor of her skin had a seductive quality, but not like the gravitational pull of her wet center._

_He ran his tongue between her lips, pulling and pushing the velvet folds. He wanted to let his eyes roll back in his head when he felt her pulse and clench, but he couldn’t stop looking at her.  What a sight, with her hands fisting the bedspread and her legs in a spasm as he pressed his tongue to her clit. She bucked every time he gave it attention. Absolutely undone, and all for him._

_She responded to every touch, even his nails ranking down her inner thigh before pulling back the hood of the sensitive bundle of nerves. He wanted to ravage the needy bud, to watch her fly off the mattress, but instead, he gently blew against it, greedy for new expressions._

_“Oh, stars! Kylo, please” she choked out the words._

_The sound of her voice was the only way his name should ever be said. The claim had his free hand scrambling for his own need. He dipped his fingers into her opening to collect her juices before running them down his length. Satisfied to have her covering him in at least some fashion, he started stroking himself as he took a drink from her shining pussy. She keened his name again, like a perfect chorus._

_A flicker of hope told him that she needed to hear him say her name with the same urgency, so he let it roll off his tongue before he took another taste of her. “Your little cunt tastes so sweet.” She mewled in response._

_He painted circles around her clit as he slowly slid a finger inside her. She was already so wrecked he could feel individual veins throbbing inside. He searched for the perfect spot to crook his finger and—_

_“Fuck!”_

_There. He started lapping over her clit in time with the movement of his finger, with his pulls of his cock, urging them both to leak fresh precum. Her legs kicked and slipped along the silken covers as he pressed another finger in. Stars, how was she so tight? He could feel his dick throb under his fingers, begging to find out for itself. Not yet. He needed to taste her cum first._

_Kylo kept his eyes fixed on her face as he wrapped his lips around her swollen clit. Her face scrunched and her limbs twisted unnaturally as she struggled to find leverage on something, anything. Nothing was more rewarding than how she finally stopped biting her lips, instead moaning constantly. She swore and praised his name with every pull and flick of his tongue across her exposed bud until he could feel her entire body collapse around his fingers._

_Her cries were addictive. He needed more of them, continuing to fuck her with his fingers and sucking her apart, even as she begged him to stop, tried to expel him from between her thighs. He abandoned pumping himself to keep her pried open for his feasting. And her cum! The sweet cream drooled out around his fingers, whatever he couldn’t slurp up forming a puddle on the bed. Nothing should taste as good as she did._

_“I can’t—please, I can’t!” Fingers frantically pulled at his hair. No matter what she said, every twitching muscle that made up her frame yearned for more. How betrayed she must have felt when her hips started canting against his mouth._

_“You can, Counselor. You will,” he purred into the coarse hair above her lips. The only pause he would give her was to kiss her knee, to coo reassurances to her._

_“No! Please—I need—I need—“ What did she need? Was it something more than this? Could she need something he wouldn’t slaughter worlds to give her?_

_He pulled his mouth away just long enough to question her, but he continued to ruthlessly probe his fingers against the bundle of nerves inside, praying he could answer her. “What do you need?”_

_Another gasp pulled her back off of the bed, arching towards his ministrations, but when she collapsed to once again tear at the linens and his dark hair, she answered._

_“I need you inside me. Please, Kylo.”_

_There were new words he would be imagining in the dark of night._

 

* * *

 

 

         “I need you inside me. Please, Kylo.” His moan against your slit was louder than your own. When he looked up from between your thighs, your body shivering around him, you could finally see the fuse you were looking for.

         Not the fuse to set off his rage—it was well established that any number of nicks on his surface sent him into a fury—but the coiling wick that reached to his very core. You weren’t sure what was down there, but it threatened to breach the surface every time you surrendered to him. But it had to be a surrender, not mere compliance: you had to give him a fight for his victory to matter. So you would. 

         Tightening your grip on his thick hair, the only remnants of the braids being slight kinks, you tugged him up to face you. His breath came in heaving pants and you could see him hanging on the edge, waiting for your challenge. “Fuck me, Kylo.” 

         He scrambled up the bed to cover you in feverish nips, though his fingers still lingered inside you, refusing to abandon their task. The other hand roamed your body, and while you loved the feeling of his rough fingers on your skin, inside you, it wasn’t enough. You pulled his hair sharply again. “No. I want to feel you inside me.”

         A spark. You could see it flash in his eyes and run through him, unleashing the dark and possessive and endless _thing_ that had burrowed down and taken root. Ren withdrew his fingers from your cunt, and leered at you as he sucked them clean, groaning at his final taste. The sound made you clench, longing to be filled again.

         Satisfied that he had cleaned off every drop, Ren pulled up your thighs, resting your calves on his shoulders to bring his already freed cock to rest on your slit. You had almost forgotten how thick he was, the mouth-watering curve. The slightest flicker of nervousness remained in his eyes, seeking permission, approval. How could you disapprove of that?

         You gaped at his length, before returning your gaze to his, biting your lip. The tension in his brow and jaw softened at the gesture. Sweeping his tongue across the skin of your leg, he started dragging the hot steel of his shaft across your lips, running slick from your entrance all the way up to your swollen nub.

         “This what you wanted? You wanted my cock?” His words were raspy and his lids heavy, but he only nudged at your slit, refusing to enter.

         You tried desperately to bring him in, arching your back to move your hips closer.  “Yes,” you moaned.

         One hand moved across your body, squeezing your breast before grabbing your chin and dragging his thumb across your lip. “You wanted someone to fuck you, didn’t you?”

         “No.”

         The digit that had been caressing your bottom lip pinched the tender flesh until you winced. You watched his Adam's apple bob, trying to swallow the renewed fear of your rejection. “Excuse me,” he growled the question. You would kill to have him look at you with such raw vulnerability again. Kriff, you would let him kill you for it. 

         Ignoring the pain, you dipped forward enough to give a soft kiss to his grip. “No. I want _you_ to fuck me.”

         For a moment, the only sound was labored breathing. Ren’s eyes had widened into saucers, molten irises almost eclipsed by dark pupils. You watched as he sucked in a slow breath in his lips, and started moving his hips with its release. His languid strokes continued to tease, his width preventing him from sinking inside without force, a wet squelch answering every movement. “Say it again.”

         “I’ve wanted you to fuck me since we met. Just you.”

         “Fuck!” He pressed against you harder. Just the head of his penis moved inside, torturing you with promise.  He leaned forward, almost bending you in half as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.”

         “I need you, Kylo. Only you.” You did. You needed him all the way down to the marrow in your bones.

         He surged forward, filling you completely in one stroke, both in pain and pleasure. You couldn’t help but swear at the intrusion, so foreign but so right. His three fingers had been overwhelming, but his cock? Earth-shattering. Everything but his body and yours melted away. Each thrust completed you, split you in two, the stretch pushing your swollen clit out to be beaten into submissive pleasure by his pubic bone. 

         “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Kylo was gasping above you, pounding you into the mattress like a wild animal. His dark hair fell across your face, obscuring your vision, but you still caught the deep flush that covered his cheeks and ears. “How do you feel this kriffing good?”

         A filthy mixture of moans and laughter bubbled out of you. How did you feel so good? How the fuck did he feel so good? It was like he was crafted to please, the perfect mixture of hard and soft: thick muscles, rough finger pad on your clit, hard cock inside you, but plush lips, sweet tongue running up your neck, and soft hair tickling your skin.

         Based on his pained expression, you were certain he was going to come undone in moments, but he showed no sign of slowing down, even as you felt yourself standing at the edge of the abyss. You were almost too sensitive, and you feared that he would have to fuck your unconscious body once you came. Not that you could stop him, but you craved to see him come undone again. 

         “Cum on my cock.” Lost in your own pleasure, you almost didn’t hear him.  His thumb pulled roughly at your clit, while his hips continued to drive into. You were going to cum, whether he wanted it or not. But you had a gnawing feeling that he wanted more, more than his pride would let him beg for. “Cum for me!”

         As he leaned back to watch your pussy swallow his length, you threw all of your weight against him, twisting your thighs. Your movement caught him off balance, and you both went tumbling off of the bed. Your knees throbbed from the impact with the floor, and you heard the dull thump of his head smacking down, but you quickly moved to straddle him, sinking back down on his length. 

         To add insult to injury, you bent over to kiss him on his nose. “Make me.” 

         A frustrated garble pushed through his lips and you could feel him twitch inside you. When he focused his eyes, something equal parts distress and delight danced there before he wrestled you under him again. “I said: Cum. On. My. Cock. Slut!” He punctuated each word with a vicious thrust.

         The movements made you dizzy but you still tried to sneer at him. “Again, you’ll have to make me, Comman— “

         He cut you off, grinding his thumb into your clit and sharply twisting your nipple. Mania lit his face from within as a smirk pulled at his lips. His motions buried your hip bone into the floor as he pulled one leg over his shoulder again, driving in deeper than before. “You’re going to cum for me. I’ll take anything I want from you.”

         The force of his thrusts pushed you across the floor, your back burning against the carpet. The pain only intensified the feeling of pleasure that swallowed you whole. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” You only just caught him murmuring as you body started to convulse, quickly unraveling around him.

         “Don’t stop, Kylo” you keened, feeling him start to tense.

         “You have to—Fuck! Cum for me.”

         It was the pleading, the pure need in his voice, in his touch, in his haunting eyes that pushed you over. You screamed his name over and over again as your fingers clawed down his back and ripped at his hair. His thrusts became sharp and erratic as he wrapped his arms under your back, locking you against him as tightly as possible. Kylo howled swears, then your name, as he speared as deeply into you as he could. Grabbing your jaw, he forced his lips over yours as hot spurts of cum filled you. You screamed into his mouth as the swell of his cock inside you made you climax again. At some point, you had started crying—the salt of your tears mingling with your sweat and spit as his lips released yours.  Your pussy continued to pulse as the last ropes of white spilled inside you. 

         Instead of pulling out, he pushed his hips snug against yours and collapsed, trapping your body against the floor. Both of you continued to shudder, release rolling through your bodies. His sheer mass put a strain on your already shallow breathing, but you didn’t resist. Kylo pulled you into an embrace that was far too gentle and sweet for the broody commander, tucking your head under his chin, squeezing you to him. 

         The way he held you reminded you of earlier in the evening when he shielded you from your cousin. Why did everything feel so safe, so right when you were pressed together? Every other time you were in the same room you fantasized about smacking an imprint of your hand into his face, and he always seemed ready to mark you in kind. Maybe the tension was a result of your bodies knowing they were too far apart, and the marks you were meant to leave were your newly collected bruises. You had wasted so much time trying to sabotage each other when you could have been fucking in every corner of the galaxy, going to bed every night with your head nestled in his solid chest and his cock buried between your thighs. 

         “That was perfect.” It wasn’t until the words left your lips that you realized that you were speaking out loud.

         He jerked back to look down at your face. Your eyes darted to the side, too embarrassed for eye contact.

         “You liked it?” Another uncertain swallow. It seemed constant: his actions were sure and defiant, but his words were always uneasy. Snoke had ordered you to burn his apprentice, but all you could only think of soothing over the open wounds and kissing away his scars.

         You peered up through your lashes. “Immensely.”

         “Oh. Good.” Embarrassment took over, and he fumbled away. You grimaced as he pulled out, burning from the abrupt withdrawal. His size must have torn the thin skin of your entrance. Pushing off the floor, he tucked his length back in his pants before searching for his clothes.

         “Wait, where are you going?” You pushed yourself to your elbows, legs too weak to stand beside him.

         He found his undershirt, pulling it over his head before searching for his tunic and belt. “To sleep.”

         “There’s a perfectly good bed right there,” you jerked a thumb behind you.

         “No.” His words were clipped and he refused to look at you. He seemed focused on retreating as soon as he reclaimed all of his things. All that was left were the blue tunic and his lightsaber.

         The black hilt glinted under the bed. Before he could summon it with the Force, you grabbed and placed it behind you, ignoring the invisible tug in the other direction. 

         Kylo finally turned his attention to you, frowning. You could guess how pathetic you looked, worn out on the floor with a toy that didn’t belong to you. “Give it to me.”

         Shaking your head, you tried to climb back up the bed. How could you feel so broken but still be desperate for more abuse? “You said you wanted to touch me all night. Are you sure that was enough?”

         His eyes jerked down to the floor and deep creases formed between his brows. “You got what you needed, didn’t you? Don’t be difficult,” he spat. 

         The amount of effort it took to mount the bed was embarrassing, but you could feel blood returning to your limbs with every movement. And with the circulation, came a wicked idea.

         “Kylo,” you slowly spread your legs, feeling his cum start to drool out. Whether it was the breathless way you called for him, or his seed dripping out of your slit, you had his attention. The warring Force grip on his lightsaber was gone as you placed it in between your thighs. “Are you _sure_ that was enough?” Weary of the activation stud, you took his weapon and started to drag it across you tender pussy, teasing your entrance with the hilt, letting your mingled juices run across the dark metal. 

         Whatever intentions the Force user had were lost to the pull of his weapon rubbing against your clit. Darkness returned to his eyes, and you would bet that the flush which ran all the way down his neck wasn’t from embarrassment.

         “I shouldn’t—” You pushed the saber in further, ignoring the sting at your entrance as his words devolved into a whimper. He stepped closer until he could run his fingers along your thighs, watching you tease your center.

         “I need more,” you pleaded, your free hand drawing his to your lips.

         You watched whatever hesitancy lingered burn away, until he found the words. “If I stay, neither of us are going to sleep, Counselor.”

         You kissed his fingers, keeping your eyes on his. “I certainly hope not, Commander.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Wooh! I need a cigarette. Thank you wickedness for your edits and feedback!
> 
> Also, errmeerrrrggeerrrdd! Over 4000 hits and over 200 kudos! I hope this chapter is a suitable thank you to all of you for your support and readership. I love reading all of the comments and I try to respond to as many as possible. This has been a great way to improve my writing, and your feedback is what makes it better. 
> 
> Love you all! xoxoxo <3


	16. Negotiator

The Commander had gotten one thing wrong: you did get  _ some _ sleep. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, you dozed off, only to be roused by golden sunlight peeking through the curtains. As tired as you still were, you couldn’t help but grin. Fuck, you missed sunlight. Soaking in the natural wake up call, you nuzzled into the embrace. 

Your eyes shot open. Embrace? 

Sure enough, muscled arms held you firm against a solid chest that lifted with every soft inhale. Warmth filled your cheeks as a large thumb stroked your lower back, affectionate in his slumber.

It couldn’t be Kylo Ren beside you. Such tenderness was impossible for the man. Rabid, lustful fucking, yes, but not cuddling. When you hazarded a look at your companion, you found ebony bedhead and thick lips parted just slightly. He looked younger in his sleep, his dark eyelashes fluttering with unseen imaginings. 

Or waking up.

And you were gaping. 

You scrambled away before he opened his eyes, rushing towards the refresher. Slamming the door behind you probably woke him, but you needed something between you, some seclusion where you could get your damned heart under control. Why the kriff was he still in your bed? Had you wanted him in your bed that night? Obviously. Had you expected him to stay there, to hold you? Who would expect that?! The man had the temperament of an armed missile, and walls thicker than the ice on Scipio.

Cold water  inspired  no new answers, but it did reset your system as you shivered through a quick wash. MH3 was ready with a warm towel as you shot out of the shower. You ruffled your hair, trying to shake the confusion out of your head before turning yourself over to MH3’s pampering. 

And what about your own feelings? The Supreme Leader told you that Kylo would be stronger if you created discord. Perhaps the night before started that way, volatile and passionate, but it seemed that when the dust settled, peace  remained. You were confused about your feelings, but only because of how  _ right _ it felt to be tucked in against his chest. Regardless, you needed to reestablish tension and frustration, without risking your neck. 

When you emerged from the refresher, Ren was gone. It stung, slightly, but it was for the best. You dressed in a fashionable jumpsuit with embroidered slippers before walking out into the main area of the suite. Ren was already in his disguise, cleaning his blaster on the couch. 

“Here I thought it was just a prop.” You plucked a fig from the bowl of fruit, popping it into your mouth before sitting opposite from him and opening the mission brief. 

“It would be hard to protect you with a prop.” He didn’t look at you, but there was a hint of tease in his voice. All he needed was a hint to make firebugs erupt from your stomach and up to your face. Memories of his teasing from the night before threatened to ruin your composure. You wanted to lunge at him, let him rip your clothes off again and play you like a valachord—  _ down girl! _

“Don’t you have the Force for that? Or your laser sword?”

“ _ Lightsaber _ .” He stopped before continuing: both of you were remembering the same moment. He coughed and refocused on properly aligning the sight. “The purpose of this disguise would be moot if I used either.”

“Do you know how to use a blaster?” You fished into the bowl for another fruit, anything to keep your attention away from the way his large hands nimbly maneuvered over the equipment.

“Better than anyone else you know.” Ben’s smile made an appearance and you had to stifle a responding hiccup. 

“Confident, are you?”

“You should know better than to question my  _ skill _ , Counselor.”

Well, there was nothing you could say to that. You continued peeling the citrus fruit, trying to focus on something other than the slight ache between your thighs. Teasing was better than cuddling, but not by much.

Returning to the mission, you reviewed the meetings for the day. Most of them had been previously scheduled, with a few confirmed the night before. “Zetulus should be here next cycle. After lunch, we’ll meet with some investors to discuss creating more liquid  capital for us. Next , we have to head to the aerial gardens to negotiate new supply contracts for food supplies, and  later  tonight, I have tickets for the fight.”

He placed the reassembled blaster on the table and  scrunched his eyebrows. “Fight?”

You brought up a holovid from your datapad. The current champion had cornered his opponent and was raining punches down on his skull. “Boxing. My seat is beside a potential new contact.” Not your first choice for a night out, but certainly a decadent one. 

Ren’s chin rested on the top of his hands as he leaned forward. You didn’t look away from your datapad, but you could feel him surveying you from across the table. “Do you feel confident about the Chiss? Intelligence seems to think he will reject our offer.” It was true. The report about Zetulus was clear about his weaknesses, but he wasn’t a fool, and he had plenty of pride. The agents responsible for Chiss intelligence seemed to think that Zetulus wouldn’t be amenable to your offer. The Chiss as a whole wasn’t interested in becoming embroiled with the First Order, and it wouldn’t serve an upcoming Captain to be seen making any sort of alliance  on his own. But that didn’t concern you. 

Your fingers brushed over the datapad, pulling up the aforementioned intelligence, revealing the now-familiar Captain’s face. “Intelligence wasn’t sure I would be here to negotiate.” You couldn’t fight the devious lilt in your voice. 

“Confident, are you?” The playful tone in his voice beckoned you to look at him, but you only let your gaze flicker to his lips. If you gave him any more you were sure you wouldn’t be able to keep from blushing.

“You should know better than to question  _ my _ skill, Commander.”

 

* * *

 

A slight breeze pushed through your hair. The Grand kept the airspace clear on their floors for the most part, but the tower’s heights were still exposed to the winds. If not for the climate control barrier around the terrace, your lunch spread would have flown into the Captain’s face.

The Chiss had abandoned his dress whites for a black captain’s uniform. He made himself at home, chucking his cap and overcoat on the sofa without invitation. “A terrace room? Quite the luxury, Lady Valek.”

“I like to make sure my guests are comfortable.”

“I will admit, I was hoping I would get to finally see the Garden, but I understand that this conversation isn’t suitable for your family estate.” The way he spoke made it sound like you were about to engage in a scandalous tryst. Perhaps he was hoping for such a thing. Poor bastard.

“Well, the staff has certainly tried to bring the Garden here,” you ran your fingers over the petals of a creamy calla lily. Like the suite, a large number of plants filled the small terrace. Even a few birds had been placed in the small shrub trees. You weren’t sure how you felt about that touch, certain that the birds would be without a home as soon as you left,  but it was all about the presentation in the end. “Please, sit down,” you gestured to one of the plush chairs, and took the other.

MH3 skittered over to you with a tray of tea, serving you and Zetulus before hiding by the door until summoned. The little droid’s movements brought your eyes to the dark shadow that lingered there: Ren leaned against the entryway, doing a terrible job of concealing his distaste. Wearing a helmet constantly had ruined his sabacc face. As soon as the captain had arrived, Ren’s jaw had been set in a scowl, but he didn’t engage the other man. He caught you staring, and you swore the tiniest smirk formed as you looked away. Thankfully, you did have a good sabacc face, and suppressed any blushing his look would have conjured. 

Your conversation with the Chiss Captain started polite. You discussed his recent promotion, your last visit to Spira, the state of Ascendency politics, and of course, the Canto Grand Prix. He would insert flirtations when possible, but the cloud that loomed over the conversation seemed to suppress his impulses. Once he finished the last of his meal, his nervous habits started to manifest: running his fingers along the edge of his jacket sleeve, commenting on the room, and just the slightest bob in his heels that he was clearly focused on restraining. Once you were sure that the meat was properly tenderized, nervousness making him sloppy, you made your move.

“There’s no need to be so tense, Captain. The First Order has a reputation, an unfair one if you ask me, but you can find no better partner,” you moved your hand over to his arm in a soothing gesture. “We are looking to build a partnership with you, to help you.”

Vermillion eyes focused on your hand, then your face. A deeper blue colored his cheeks, but you knew it wasn’t lust. In the back of his mind, something was screaming about retractable claws. “I won’t comment on the reputation, but I’m not sure why the First Order would look to speak with a Captain. Why not a Commander or a member of the Ascendancy? Someone with power?”

You brushed your fingers over the stiff fabric of his uniform jacket, pausing at the stripes on the cuff that announced his rank. “Your father passed earlier this year, and your mother’s health is in decline.”

His hands gripped at the edge of his sofa. “You certainly don’t sugar coat it.”

 “And now you will be responsible for your father’s company and legacy, Captain. How will you bring your family closer to the Aristocra?” You continued to finger the white and red stripes of cloth, pressing your intentions into the threads themselves. It was a silent insult; would he remain a lowly captain, or could he be something more? When you looked at his face, it was clear you hit your mark. Indignation flared his nostrils. “Yes, I am aware that your father had ambitions towards the Ascendency. I also know that he opened some doors for you to pursue that.”

His expression softened, giving way to a smug grin. “Nothing is set in stone.” He thought you were trying to get into his good graces before he ‘ascended.’

“It’s too bad he passed before he could see his dream come to fruition, because now,” you let the word hang, watched his artery begin to throb just under his jaw, “I can make all of the doors slam shut on you.”

He didn’t respond well to being threatened. Jerking his hand away, he leaped from his seat. “A human female couldn’t begin to have power over the decisions of the Aristocra!” Before he could move towards you, Ren was on guard, a blaster pressed under the chin of the Captain.

“Easy, Ben. Our guest just got a little excited,” you said, before sipping at your tea. 

Ren didn’t look down at you and didn’t lower the blaster. “He’s not a guest anymore, Counselor. He was going to hurt you.” The Commander’s mouth twisted in rage, and he pressed his blaster harder to Zetulus’s skin. “This worm’s thoughts are viler than I expected. I think negotiations are over.” 

Whatever Zetulus, was thinking, it didn’t matter. What did matter was the Chiss Captain’s realization that the man across from him could read his thoughts. Not a great thing for your negotiation, but not unsalvageable. 

“Ben, can you please go confirm our appointments at the Crescent Club and the Aerial Gardens? I want to make sure everything is in order when we arrive.” 

Being dismissed got his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he growled at you. “You think I’m leaving you alone with him?”

Like he didn’t know you had your blaster tucked into the cushion beside you. You chuckled, “We’ll be fine. And I’m sure the Captain knows that if you should return and I’m injured or missing, he will be dead before the end of the hour.”

Ren must have sensed fear in the Captain’s mind because he lowered the blaster. “I’ll be back.” He stomped into the suite towards the commlink. Zetulus remained standing, reeling from how close he clearly had come to being tossed over the terrace.

“You were saying, Captain?” Your voice was melodic, unphased by the aggression of your guest. 

He straightened his jacket before returning to his seat. “ I find it highly unlikely that you could do anything to influence the Aristocra’s decisions. It’s a Chiss matter. And there’s no way any of the ruling families would consider aligning with your Order after the mess the Empire left.”

You tapped your fingers along your jaw, a gentle hum in your throat. “Well, Zetulus, you’re right, and you’re wrong.”

This time you rose from your seat, but you didn’t advance on him. No, you went to observe the flowers and plants, showing him how little his presence threatened you. You didn’t even need to keep your eyes on him  _ without _ a bodyguard present. “It would be impossible to wiggle in with one of those bluebloods from the outside, so we’re going to put our own blue boy in there. You.” You plucked a short stalk of bluebells, a delicate row of round buds. “And you’re going to support us,” you crushed the bottom-most bud between your finger and thumb, “because if you don’t,” you worked your way up as you spoke, until only one remained, “we will make sure your competitor receives the zersium we will begin mining, and their seat.” You finally looked at him as you smashed the last bud with a smile.

His fury was back, but the threat of death was still fresh in his mind, so he remained in his seat. “That won’t keep me out. I will join the Aristocra—”  
“You didn’t let me finish,” you cut him off, your voice cold and sharp. “You said a human female wouldn’t have power over the Aristocra. Do you really think my name has no power?” Stepping closer, you watched the truth sink into him. He wasn’t just dealing with the First Order; he was dealing with you. Your family might not get involved in politics, but they influenced or controlled some of the largest enterprises in the galaxy. It didn’t matter that you weren’t involved. There were Aristocra who did business with the Valeks, important business, and your name alone would give you power.

He turned away, shame burning in his cheeks. “What do you want?”

Settling back into your chair, you took another sip of tea. Time for the best part. “Oh no, Captain. What are you willing to give? I’ll let you know if it’s worth our time.”

Indigo lips made a thin line as he mulled over his options. After a few moments, he spoke. “My operation will purchase half of our zersium volume from you within three years. Market Price”

The joke of an offer didn’t even warrant rage or laughter. It was literally worthless. “You were already going to be doing that if given the chance.”

“Sixty percent of our intake from your mining operation. And you’ll have my voice in the Ascendency.” From his expression, you both knew he was trying to make as small a concession as he could. That wouldn’t stand.

“You’re not very good at this Zetulus. I said things we weren’t already going to have” you laughed, then gave him a sharp smile. “I want ten percent over market price and within two years we should have seventy-five percent of your volume sourced from our mines.”

“That’s absurd! Sourcing from an outside operation at an above market price would make me the mockery of the Ascendency, and eat any profit I might gain!” Of course it would. You weren’t an idiot, you just needed him to take the bait. You knew what he could do, and so did he. He just needed to admit it. He needed a little push. 

“How much is a seat in the Aristocra worth? How much do you care about your father’s legacy?” 

The words clearly stung. Zetulus, like so many of his kind, cared about legacy above all else.  You watched him chew at the inside of his mouth. “Seventy percent at market price, and five percent below market price on any refined durasteel you need from us. As well as access to anything new our R&D develops.”

Ren returned to his post by the door, still stiff with frustration. It was a shame he missed your favorite part, but Zetulus would have felt too cornered to consider his options with Ren in the room. The Captain needed to think he retained some sort of control in the partnership if it was going to be effective. 

“You will also help build our network among your people. And that means you will be accepting our agents to monitor you.” You didn’t say how many agents, or that there was already a mole in his operations. He would find out soon enough.

His lips pursed.  “Fine.”

“Wonderful!” You stood, clapping your hands. “Shall I call for drinks? To toast our celebration?”

“I think not.” The Captain was quick to stand as well, his brow was furrowed. He moved inside, with you gliding in behind him. He snatched up his coat and hat, marching out the door. 

“Oh Captain, I thought you were looking forward to monopolizing my company?”

The heels of his boots snapped as he turned to look at you, letting you savor the indignation even as he put on a false smirk. He did have his pride after all. “That was before I knew what a cutthroat bitch you are. And while that may be tempting at another time,” his eyes flickered over to Ren, “I think I’m going to go lick my wounds elsewhere.” 

“Fair,” you shrugged. Just before the door closed shut, you gave him a final parting remark:

“You’ll be hearing from us soon, Captain.”

 

* * *

 

The afternoon was more of the same, though without the personal attacks, and the prizes weren’t quite as fat. Larger investments from a few corporations, placement of a garrison with a spaceport owned by an ally, and a major food supply contract. Most of the other parties were established contacts that had simply forgotten that they were dealing with the fastest-growing military force in the galaxy. Ren had managed to stay on his best behavior, limiting his interactions to scowls and posing threateningly behind you. 

Despite your banter in the morning, neither of you mentioned the night before, and the way he acted almost convinced you it didn’t happen. If not for your trip to the refresher during the day where you spotted red and purple blooming across your knees and hips, you would have believed it to be a dream. 

Normally, after these sorts of trysts, there would be heated gazes, unnecessary touching, perhaps a quick fuck in the speeder or bathroom, but he was a blank slate. Well, not entirely blank: he was his default broody self. He hardly spoke to you except to confirm your destination. This meant that when he finally spoke during your  ride from the meeting with the AgriTycoon at the aerial gardens, you were startled.

“You handle yourself well.”

“What?” You whipped up so fast your head connected with the curved wall of the speeder. Suppressing a swear, you repeated yourself.

Ren’s eyebrow popped up slightly, but he didn’t comment on your clumsiness. “I said: you handle yourself well.” You had to have hit your head harder than you thought. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Really? Anything in particular you noticed? You are supposed to be learning on this trip.” 

“I’m to observe you, Counselor, not learn. I doubt there is anything you could  teach me.” It was hard to tell what was colder: his tone or his stare. Well, it seemed screwing did not improve his sense of humor.

You sized him up across the small cabin. “Oh? You’re some skilled negotiator then?”

“I have led negotiations before.”

That was a surprise. “What? When?”

Ren did not appreciate the incredulity in your tone if his expression was to be trusted. “The cessation of the Benathy expansion in Wild Space.” Benathy? You weren’t familiar with the species. 

“Really? And how did that end?”

He paused, and his next words were less confident than you expected. “I killed their leader and then their beast god. They now give allegiance to the First Order.” To top it off, he refused to look at you. 

You struggled to stifle a laugh at the slight pout that threatened his thick lips. “Such finesse, Commander.”

The speeder ride continued in silence for a few moments, Ran stewing in his embarrassment while you tried to collect yourself before speaking again. “Well, what did you  _ observe _ ?” 

The stoic consideration he offered surprised you. “You don’t make the first offer. You are comfortable waiting for your opponent to strike so you can be responsive. ”

“And you approve?” You tried to keep from sounding too eager or pleased. 

“A Jedi tactic.” There wasn’t vitriol in his tone, but the reference felt awkward coming from him. “It wouldn’t win in a fight of strength, but you seem to be making use of it.”

Cupping your chin in your hand, you let out a huff. “Jedi? Now I can’t tell if you’re being genuine or mocking me.” You watched the Galactic city whizz by outside the speeder window, the golden light of sunset glaring off of towering buildings. 

Sunset. That was something you missed out in space. No amount of synth lights or filtered air or noise machines could replicate the circadian rhythm of a star rising and falling over horizons. Sometimes you toyed with the idea of running away, but the First Order was your home. 

“There is a weakness in your approach.” Ren’s even baritone startled you from your reveries. 

Turning back to face him, you gave him a strained smile. “Please elucidate me, Commander.”

If he could sense your displeasure, he didn’t let it show. Instead, his words seemed considered and analytical. Every now and then, you could see how he earned his title. “Even when you are being shrewd, you lack the strength of will. Victory is only possible if you commit to dominating your enemy, destroying them.” He probably didn’t intend for his words to sound so salacious, but your mind was too far gone down the gutter. “You have empathy for them.”

That caught your attention. There was added sharpness in the statement as if you had personally offended him with your supposed actions. “I don’t think you understand what negotiations are.”

As you looked over at your companion, still leaning against the windows, you sensed a shift. He subtly turned his body to yours and you could see how his jaw twitched slightly. His words came out as even as they had before, but new darkness simmered underneath. “He threatened you. He thought of doing unspeakable things to you. But you ignored them.” His eyes bored into you like he needed an explanation. Like your behavior was the problem. 

“My job is to find a common understanding. Empathy is an important tool in negotiations.” You tried to play cool, to ignore the way his face pinched and furrowed at your words. “ I can’t use someone's feelings unless I can understand what they are.”

“Your job is to secure the Order’s objectives,” his words were sharp enough that you flinched.

Against your better judgment, you spat right back at him. “But not razing the ground to do so.”

Your response had him moving across the seat, gripping at the leather seat so tightly the stitching started to stretch and pop. “You think you’re being clever but you are weak.”

And to think, you were starting to find him charming. “Thank you for the insight, Commander. I’ll be sure to decapitate my next business partner.” 

After a final eyeroll, you slumped back against your window. The center of the city was in its golden hour, but you could hardly enjoy it. Being around the Commander was a seesaw, constantly swinging from one emotional peak to the other. One minute he was drawing you in with smirks and banter, the next he was tearing you down and pushing you away. The 500 Republica tower caught your eye, only a few minutes away. The sooner you made it back to the hotel, the better. 

“You are weak, but you possess skill.”

Again, he startled you. It wasn’t just that he broke the silence, but the almost tentative quality of his words, like he was trying to soothe you. “Skill? And by that you mean...?”

He pushed his fingers through his hair, catching against where it was tied back. The unfamiliar resistance temporarily distracted him. For a moment, he wasn’t the dark brooding Commander Ren, but something different, more human. Then the moment was gone, and the indescribable brown stare was back in place, focused on you. “It means I won’t tell Leader Snoke to get rid of you.”

You had almost forgotten that was even an outcome of your mission. Not a likely one in your mind, but to him it was. In his mind, he was sparing you. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see that as something you would owe him later. 

* * *

 

While not as bedazzling and elaborate as your gown from the gala, may it rest in peace, you were pleased with what you saw in the full-length mirror. Boxing matches, especially prizefighting, were more for the wealthy to show their own prizes, and for the evening, you would be posing as such a prize. Although the chief financial officer of a major pharmaceutical manufacturer wasn’t aware you were his date, you imagined he wouldn’t mind when you slipped into the seat next to him in a contact’s private box, where you would then plant the seed for a new supply of medical supplies drugs and criminally cheap prices.

The swath of unapologetically sheer black silk was cinched at the waist with a large golden brooch, the only decorative embellishment.  Around your navel, where the brooch was placed, the fabric collected in such a way that made it opaque, but as it radiated out, the material became more and more transparent, as if you were wearing only a fine layer of smoke at your shoulders. Your silhouette was just visible as you stood, the shape of your nipples barely teasing through the material. Seductive, but with enough mystery to make it elegant. You didn’t spoil it with heavy makeup, only a set of large pearl drops and a matching pendant. Ready for the night, you walked out into the suite

“Finally. Let’s get moving, Counselor.” Ren was hunched over on the sofa, facing away from you, so you could admire his sloppy attempt at a bun. He had the finesse to skewer countless soldiers on his lightsaber, but not to tie a few braids. 

“Have you ever been to a boxing match, Commander Ren?” Grabbing your clutch, you walked towards the exit, but as you approached the door, you came to an unnatural stop. 

“Commander, I’m going to have to insist you release me. We need to leave now if we want to catch the undercard.” Feeling a slight release you spun around to find him standing ram-rod straight, arm extended.

After a moment of silence, Ren lowered his arm but didn’t speak. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the door. “We’re not going” he snapped.

You looked back just in time to see his arm twitch forward, ready to take you captive with the Force again. “Well, we could be, if you moved towards the door.” 

He was forcing himself to take slow, steady breaths. “I’m not in the mood.”

It was a golden opportunity to get under Ren’s skin, the Supreme Leader would want you to take it, but that would make you late for the match. Your master wouldn’t want you to ignore your mission. No, you would play nice. “Well, that’s a pity. It should be a good match. Chex Pleqard is a contender for the title according to the mission brief.” Keeping as genuine a smile as possible on your face, you once again started walking towards the exit. You didn’t feel the pull of the Force on you, so you waved your hand towards the scanner.

It didn’t budge. Kriff.

“No.” Ren had somehow stalked behind you. Only a little more than an arms-length away, you could see the tense muscles in his jaw, the slightest twitching vein under his left eye. 

It was wrong to assume that he had moved past the “spoiled child having a tantrum” phase of the mission. A good roll in the sheets usually made people more pleasant, but it seemed to have no effect on Ren. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you forced yourself to take a slow inhale, then release. “Fine, you can stay here. But I am here on a mission so I will be going.”

He didn’t yell, but his voice vibrated with frustration and anger. “You can’t leave without me.”

“I’m positive I can,” you fought to keep the slight smile in place, but your body was already squaring up to his, taking a fighting stance. The pair of you had done the dance enough times that you could start the choreography without thinking.

You had only visited Hutt Space once, but you had a vivid memory from your one encounter with the Clan. One of the Hutts had a Krayt Dragon with him. The giant reptile from Tatooine was terrifying and ferocious, but also majestic. Maybe it was the wealth of pearls in its belly, or its golden scales, but even as you knew it was full of venom and pointy teeth, you were drawn to the creature. When you approached the beast, it had remained still, but watched you with eyes that spoke of how it would rend flesh from your bones if you got any closer. Ren had the same expression.

“The Supreme Leader tasked me with your protection. You won’t leave without me.”

“If you choose not to do your job, that’s your problem.” You swallowed down the terror, the arid quality of your mouth. 

Thick lips curled up towards his prominent nose in a sneer. “The only way you will walk out those doors without me is if you overpower me. Does that sound likely to you?” You had been waiting for him to shout at you, to snarl, but he kept his voice even and low. It was the same tone he had when he brought the small girl before Tofar; more terrifying than any tantrum. You needed to get away before he unveiled whatever nastiness he had planned for  _ you _ . 

“Open the door, Commander.”

A tick disturbed the lower lid of his eye, but the sneer remained. “You think I am going to let you represent our Supreme Leader dressed like some slaver’s whore?”

Indignation and lust trickled down your spine, each demanding your response. You pulled yourself straight, keeping an eye out for his impending attack. “I’ve suspected you lack an eye for fashion, Commander, given that gauche bucket you insist on wearing, but that’s just rude.”

That made him grimace, but he seemed to catch himself before tumbling into a fit.  “Make all the excuses you want, Counselor, but your intentions are about as transparent as your dress.”

“What intentions, Ren? This is what I was given to wear for the mission, so the Supreme Leader must not have protested it too much.” Not entirely true, but it was the only explanation you could imagine gaining credence with the menace. “Now, let’s be going.”

“You aren’t stepping outside this room in that.” He advanced on you until your back was to the door. Walling you in with his muscled arms, he shoved his thigh between your legs, raunching and wrinkling the delicate fabric. “Such a slut, always using sex to get what you want,” one hand cupped around your neck, gripping tight enough to skirt the line between sensual and terrifying. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? Making sure everyone’s looking at your body so no one pays attention to your dirty tricks?”

“It works.” You intended to sound haughty but instead, your words were breathless. 

He pushed his nose against your neck, inhaling the drops of perfume and nervous sweat. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You want to put on a show.” One hand slipped up and down your side.

“Fuck off, Ren.” How eloquent. You were in too deep. 

He sniggered against your skin. “Well, if you want everyone to know what a slut you are, I’ll make sure they’re certain.”

“I’m warning you, Commander,” you were trembling behind the bluster. What threat could you possibly pose Kylo Ren, Jedi Killer?

“No, Counselor, I insist. Let’s make sure no one doubts how insatiable you are.” His lips clamped around the base of your neck, sucking hard and pulling at the thin skin with his teeth. You could feel blood rising up to meet his attentions, forming an impression of his twisted affection. After a few moments, you thought he was finished, but he simply moved to a new site on your neck. He started to toy with your nipple through the fabric, forcing you to release the moan you had been hiding behind gritted teeth. 

Soon you were weak in the knees, resting your weight on his thigh. He seemed intent on turning you into some spotted creature, covering your neck and chest with welts. All the while his hands wandered between kneading your breast or dragging your hips across his thigh. Need slowly consumed you. 

It wasn’t until his hands moved in unison up to your neckline that you were jolted from your fugue state. 

Your hands jumped to his. “Don’t even think about ripping this gown or so help me I will run you through with your own lightsaber.”

His mouth released its bruising hold. You slumped back against the door as he stepped back, licking his lips. He seemed pleased with his efforts on your flesh. 

“Fine, then. Strip.” There seemed to be little point in removing the dress: the way he looked at you left you feeling exposed enough.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t keep giving in to him, letting him set the pace, or you would never regain control. “Kylo...”

The smirk was gone, leaving only hunger. “I'm not finished. Strip.”

“The Supreme Leader isn’t going to approve of such conduct.” It wasn’t like you could go to the match with the certain constellation of marks on you.

Kylo moved closer but he didn’t reach out and touch you. “The Supreme Leader isn’t here. I am. You are. And I’m telling you to strip for me. For your sake, you should.” 

You released the golden brooch. “I’m starting to think the insatiable one here is you, Kylo.” Black silk pooled at your feet.

Smirking, he pressed you back against the door, finding his grip on your bare hips. “How many times am I going to have to tell you to shut up?” Your lips joined for the first of many times that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I’m some sort of monster for writing the build-up without 3000 words of juicy payoff. But if you’re reading this story you know that this isn’t about the payoff: it’s about the tension. So much tension. 
> 
> Thank you as always to wickedness for her reviews and notes, and thank you to everyone for your continued support! Love you! xoxoxo.


	17. House of Valek

 

_ “Kylo, you feel so good.”  _

_ He watched her bob up and down his length, her nails pinching into his skin where she braced against his chest. Her skin was shining with sweat, her cheeks were flushed, and she was covered in bite marks. His marks.  _

_ Kylo groaned at the sight. He dragged her hips down as he lifted into her, bringing their hips as close together as possible. She was so warm and tight around him he might as well have been impaling her anew with each thrust. _

_ “Stars, you’re so deep.” Her face was twisted, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled under her teeth.  _

_ “Do you like that? Having me inside you?” Words spilled from his lips uninhibited. From the way she clenched around him, he knew she would keep responding, and her voice was concentrated pleasure injected directly into his brain.  _

_ “Yes! Kriff yes!” Just like that. _

_ Anticipation flooded his nerve endings with heat, teetering at the edge of something all-consuming and perfect. “I knew it. I knew it the moment I saw you.”  _

_ “Knew what?” The same eyes that once looked up at him, flustered and terrified in the hallways of the Finalizer, looked down on him, glassy with need.  _

_ “That you belonged on my cock,” he couldn’t help but smirk. _

_ “Oh fuck.” Her pussy squeezed him, tried to pull him in even deeper, somehow. _

_ He reached out for her neck, pressing his thumb against the welts there hard enough for her to flinch and flutter around him. “And now everyone will know. No one else will dare to touch you. You are mine.” _

_ “Is that what I am? Yours?” Her own smirk was back. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands or smother her with his mouth when he saw it. How many times had she given him that look, left him wanting? Not this time.  _

_ He pressed his thumb to her clit and was rewarded with an instant spasm. He began roughly circling the nub. “Can anyone else make you shiver like this?” _

_ “No,” she whimpered. _

_  He pulled her hips even tighter to his. “Can anyone else fill you like this?” _

_ “Please Kylo.” She was doubling over, unable to keep her hips moving up and down. It was fine though; he was more than capable of rutting up into her. He was arguably incapable of doing anything else. _

_ His free hand trailed over her skin, cupping at the perfect curves of her face and body. “These lips belong to me. These tits belong to me. This tight, wet,” he punctuated each word with a thrust, “needy cunt belongs to me.” _

_ “Kylo, I’m going to cum.” She was, he could feel it. Stars, he needed it. _

_ “And every drop of your cum belongs to me. You belong to me.” _

_... _

_... _

_... _

_ Something was wrong. _

_ Something was very, very wrong with Kylo. _

_ He could feel it crawling under his skin, tugging at his nerves and muscles. His lust was turning obsessive. Possessive. More than it already was. His past life as a Jedi had taught him the dangers of such attachments, and in his current position, it would create weakness. Nothing good could come of it. _

_ When he woke up before dawn, she was curled up against his chest and one of his arms was wrapped around her waist. It was the second night in a row he had slept in bed with her. He never did that. Had never done that. Even when he and Iroki were lovers, they slept apart.  _

_ But there he was, tangled in the sheets. Tangled in her. _

_ The Supreme Leader had tasked Kylo with controlling her, making her submit. He couldn’t imagine that her kneeling down to suck him off was the submission his Master was interested in. Even if it was, the tenderness that lingered in her touch was dangerous, as was his need to dominate her every moment. It was starting to interfere with their mission. He wanted to chain her up like a misbehaving pet, not watch her sip tea and brush her hands over those of other men. The feeling that she was his alone saturated him down to the last atom.  _

_ And those wants, those feelings, were unacceptable.  _

_ He slowly pulled his arm from under her head. Not out of tenderness, but because If she woke up, she would try to lure him back in. She stirred only slightly, before rolling over, exposing the inviting expanse of her back, spotted with bruises to look like some exotic animal. He resisted the temptation to run his hands across his handiwork before escaping to his own room. _

 

* * *

 

Stretching out like a starfish only reminded you of how abused your body felt. It also alerted you that your bed was otherwise unoccupied. The big man must have crept out sometime in the night. Considering the anxiety his presence just a day before had provoked, it was for the best, but there was a slight sting behind your ribs as your arms splayed, uninhibited. No, his absence meant nothing, just as the prior embrace meant nothing. You had no business feeling  _ anything _ , let alone dejection. Kylo Ren was a task. It was better that he was gone. 

You managed to roll out of bed and prepare for the day, even though you could feel the pain and strain radiating from between your thighs, along your entire frame. When you exited the refresher, you fought desperately not to moon over your own appearance: you were covered in hickeys. How/why did he insist on covering every inch? Who even left hickeys on another person's ass?

Selecting an outfit was tricky. You hadn’t anticipated the state of your skin when you packed. There was only so much concealer could do. At least you had one more conservative ensemble of Coruscant fashion, the copious flowing layers harkened back to the days of the old Republic. You needed them where you were going. 

Once again, you found Ren already dressed and waiting with his luggage. The biggest difference was that instead of his disguise he was back to his black robes, minus his cowl and helmet.

“Are you ready to leave?” His words were detached, summoning an unnecessary ache in your chest. Even his often elusive eyes were patently disinterested when they looked over your frame.  “The ship is prepared. We can return to the Supremacy as soon as possible.”

“We’ve got one more stop to make,” you summoned a valet to come and retrieve your luggage on the comm. 

The return of Ren’s gloves meant you heard the familiar squelch of clenching leather. You could guess his expression without looking at it. “We don’t have time for socializing, Counselor. Our mission is over.”

You pulled out your own datapad and entered the memorized address. How long had it been since you had to type in those glyphs? Two years? Three? But the complex sequence was ingrained in your memory, your DNA. “We won’t be able to leave the atmosphere until I make this stop, I’m afraid.”

“Why?” The edge in his voice was unmistakable, but you didn’t pay him mind. You continued your message, waiting only a moment before confirmation was received.

“My cousin wasn’t exaggerating: if we attempt to leave the planet, we will probably be stopped by customs or air control on some pretense. We don’t need closer inspection. The sooner I pay my respects, the sooner we can leave.”

You were headed to the Garden.

 

* * *

 

Ren had been fuming since you boarded the yacht, but he ordered the crew to head to the coordinates you provided. Your destination was far from the Federal District, almost the other side of the planet. The two of you sat in the galley, you flipping over your datapad as he made intermittent disgruntled noises. They started as heavy sighs until they escalated to pacing, flexing, and growling.

“How are you certain we will be stopped leaving the planet?” When you looked up, he swiveled his chair towards yours, his body swelling forward to match his peeved expression. 

You returned to reading about the latest dysfunction in the Coruscant Council. “Because Al’lyr is an ass.”

“And he has the ability to keep us here?”

It looked like the recent essential climate legislation was stalled, again. Democracy at work. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Apparently Ren wasn’t satisfied with the level of attention you were giving the conversation. A leather glove gripped the top of your pad and yanked it away so you were forced to entertain his sour expression. “And how is that, Counselor?”

He really was like a temperamental child. Sighing, you eased back in your seat, accepting that your datapad wouldn’t be returned until you gave the Force User some explanation. “I’m assuming you know of the Elder Houses?”

“Yes.” Who didn’t? But he had already proven to be lacking important knowledge of galactic society, so it was important to check. 

“Well, a handful of them are a little more ‘elder’ than the rest. Ancient bloodlines. Some claim to predate the first galactic republic. For instance, the Valek.” You gestured to yourself briefly. 

 His dark brows knitted together, his gaze narrowed. “And you are Lady Valek. Doesn’t that mean  _ you _ should be able to get us out of here?”

Well, the first lesson for swimming was floating. You had to start somewhere. “No. My title is just that: a title. The only power in my family is held by the Primacy and the Heirs.” 

“I’m growing tired of empty titles,  _ my Lady _ .” His body was almost out of his seat, his hands gripping his knees with bruising force. 

Your eyebrows cocked before you could stop them. He wasn’t the only one losing his patience. “Do you want an explanation or do you want to whine,  _ Commander _ ?” He pursed his lips at the word. Not that you thought his title was empty, but it served to check him. Huffing, he fell back into his seat, arms crossed and ears slightly red. You continued. 

“The Valek is different from most elder houses. They believe the point of an Elder house is to maintain the bloodline and to centralize power in that bloodline. And by power, I, of course, mean wealth.”

He gave you an exaggerated eye roll before shifting uncomfortably. The subject of family seemed to be a sensitive one for him. “I wondered how you afforded all of your stuff _. _ So you have wealth, then? How is that different from numerous other families?”  

Anxiety started to prickle your skin. The Garden would probably give him a case of shell shock anyways. What purpose would it serve him to know more? He probably wouldn’t see you the same way... whatever way that was. “I’m not talking about fancy dinner parties and holidays to Naboo wealth, Ren. I’m talking about ownership of  _ planets _ . The Valek have managed to take control of a massive stake of the coaxium market.  And it’s not my wealth; it’s all concentrated in the Primacy. My grandmother.”

Few understood the workings of the Valek house. Most people who knew your title assumed it came with luxuries and power untold. Instead, you had grown up being told a different tale. You were the second child of the second child, tertiary. The estate paid out an allowance and ensured you represented the Valek name with honor, but your children would never be given the title or wealth you were. They would be too far removed from the main bloodline. The extent of your power was a single vote when the Primacy considered making a great change in the House’s assets. Another process designed to ensure that power would always remain in the family—limiting even the Primacy’s ability to spend or invest as they pleased. 

 Ren’s baritone pulled you from your momentary revery. “You seem to have no difficulty spending it. If you can access this wealth, this power, why did you join the Order?”

Your jaw stiffened and you tried to put as much force in your glare as possible. “Again, I can’t just access it. But more importantly, I’m not just my name. I don’t want to spend my life thinking that the only reason I have what I do, the only reason people respect me is because of my family. Following Leader Snoke, I'm not just Lady Valek. I can be something more.” 

Ren went quiet. Perhaps he realized the foolishness of his question; he had probed your mind enough times to know how important the Order was to you.

You hoped the conversation might finally be over when you heard his gloves flex, and watched him stare at you again, searching. “What do you want to be?”

You didn’t have to think as your master’s promise filled your heart, almost like his hand was wrapped around your shoulder. “Someone who brings real change to the galaxy.”

A pair of heavy storm trooper boots coming down from the flight deck broke the building tension. One of the men gave you both a firm salute. “Commander Ren, Counselor: the Valek Estate has hailed us. They need proof of identification before they grant entrance.”

They would indeed. You gave the man a small smile before standing. “I’ll be right there.”

 

* * *

 

Outside the window was a sea of green as the yacht landed in the hangar. Considered the only remaining ‘forest’ of Coruscant, some of the trees within the Garden predated any living creature or droid on the grounds. Stepping out onto the small tarmac, you were hit with a bloom of petrichor, flooding you with childhood memories. The biodome was a work of art, maintained by the most advanced artificial environmental controls, ranging from the cool of Autumn to Summer thunderstorms. It was designed to mimic Coruscant's original seasons, before population growth made the city dependent on a stagnant artificial climate. The structure had gone through numerous updates and reconstructions, preserving what had originally been the homestead of the Elder House millennia before. Based on the sweet aroma of flowers and light green undergrowth, the artificial Spring was well underway.

A familiar chrome protocol droid exited the speeder at the end of the tarmac, bowing slightly as you and Ren approached. “Lady Valek, welcome home! When Master Al’lyr told us you were visiting, I requested to come and greet you. It’s been too long. How long will you be staying with us?” It sounded as excitable as ever. It had always bothered you as a child how human it seemed. 

“Thank you 7IO. We’re only here to visit Omi before we return to business in the Corporate Sector. Can you please make sure that our ship and crew are fully refreshed before we depart?” You gave it a polite nod before gesturing back to the shop. Omi taught you that everyone deserved good manners, even the creepy droids.

There was a disappointed quality to its feminine voice. “Of course, my lady. The speeder will take you and your guest to the main house.” 

“A speeder? How big is this place?” There was a hint of awe in his tone, no matter how disinterested he tried to sound. He hadn’t seen the dome when you arrived and based on his expression, he was convinced you had landed on a different planet. 

 You walked up to the sleek black speeder without a driver or droid, its destination preprogrammed. “Roughly 200 square kilometers.” Larger than the Supremacy. As if making the same comparison in his mind, Ren’s eyes widened slightly, before returning to a scowl. 

Once the two of you were settled in the back seats, the transport took off into the tree line down the dirt road. 

Each tree was a landmark in your mind. The wild dwarf irises and plum blossoms you once braided into flower crowns colored the underbrush. The anticipation that had been simmering in you all morning was rolling to a boil as each turn brought you closer to your destination. It didn’t help that Ren was silent. At the surface, he was his usual grumpy self, but you could sense that he was still stunned. You didn’t want to imagine what he thought of all of it, of you. You should have told him you would go alone, that he could wait. Actually, you didn’t recall inviting him. Why was he even there? You should have told him to wait on the ship!

The speeder pulled up in front of a massive stone wall covered in creeping ivy. You gripped bruises into your knees as the gates opened and you pulled into the main house. 

At least the outer buildings weren’t too grandiose. The main building was past the courtyard: you had come through the private entrance, near the stables and kitchens. The house was quiet, with only a few groundskeepers conducting maintenance and checking the apiaries. The speeder slowed along the cobblestones, and you hopped out as soon as possible, ignoring Ren’s continued stares.

“This way,” you didn’t look back at him, adopting a brisk pace towards the larger courtyard. Your grandmother would likely be in the library since she hadn’t sent anyone to meet you. That or in her suite having tea. The sooner you got to her, the sooner you could leave. Perhaps you could avoid any other family members in the process.  

Silence started to gnaw at your nerves as you moved through hedges and flowering trees. You really couldn’t have picked a more picturesque time of year to visit, but it was hard to appreciate. You wanted to crack a joke, narrate the botany you passed, but inviting conversation meant inviting his inspection, and you were already unfurling at the edges. No added scrutiny needed. And why was the courtyard so damned large? You’d been walking for far too long and your head was buzzing. 

“No wonder you hate flying. You grew up with ground beneath your feet.”

Ren’s voice drew you out of your spiral and slowed your steps. There was an obvious dig at you in his words, but they weren’t laced with the cruelty of which you knew he was capable. He seemed to just want your attention. 

“Did you not?” His footsteps fell just behind yours as you took on a more leisurely pace. 

A scoff. “I might as well have been born on a ship.”

Lots of travel then. Best to learn the context if you wanted to better understand your opponent. You had suspicions bobbing in the soup of your brain, and every fact brought you closer to the right one. “Family traveled a lot?”

“We’re learning about your family today, not mine.” You could almost hear his pinched expression. He caught you. 

“Fine. But yes, I spent most of my time here before I went to Chandrila for school. And even then, I came here for breaks.” The two of you passed one of the smaller ponds as you neared the entrance to the library where your grandmother was. You felt yourself lingering at the edge to watch the kaleidoscope of fish below the surface. 

Ren’s reflection came to pause beside your own. The pair of you were a stark contrast along the water. He towered in his long black robes, a defensive set to his posture in his knees and shoulders. You were tense, but it was hard to tell beneath the vibrant layers of blue and green material.

You watched as his reflection leaned slightly towards yours. “And holidays on Naboo?” The warmth of his body inching towards yours filled your stomach and started to overflow into your cheeks. 

Keeping your face hidden, you walked further along the water’s edge, just out of his long reach. “Sometimes, but it doesn’t make sense to leave when you have a perfect oasis of your own.”

There was silence between the two of you again. Even as you moved away, part of you wished he had followed you, pushed back into your personal space, let you feel the raw power he seemed to constantly radiate, but he kept his distance.  

“I can see why you are valuable to Leader Snoke.” 

When you looked back at him, his features were critical, taking you in with confusion, despite his statement. 

“My name makes it easy to disguise our dealings, and my wealth gives me access to people and places with influence. The Resistance has a Princess cum Senator cum General. The First Order gets me,” you laughed as you gestured to yourself. You weren’t nearly as prominent or as important as Leia Organa, but you enjoyed the way his eyes narrowed at the joking comparison. “I can curtsy and everything.”

A smile crosses his face, bringing another wave of warmth. “That’s why Mero calls you ‘Princess.’” 

“Among other things, but yeah.” Remembering Mero made you think of that night on the Supremacy, then the next day of training. And then just the night before. 

You turned and started towards the library with purpose, namely hiding your embarrassment. 

“Why don’t you use your title in the Order?” His voice was farther away. He hadn’t raced after you, and his frown had returned. 

“We’re supposed to be a meritocracy, right? What would it look like if some cushy noble held power without rank?” Your hands folded in front of you as you reached the stone steps to the library. “I’m not supposed to be recognized for my title: I’m supposed to be recognized as an extension of the Supreme Leader.”

Another silent pause. He hadn't quite reached the steps when he stopped and gave you a hard look.  “General Hux knows this.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Obviously.” You squeezed your hands together to keep from fidgeting. 

“And he doesn’t refer to you as such.”

Sometimes you forgot that other people didn't obsess over people’s internal motivations and behaviors. In your mind, the exclusion by Hux was perfectly natural. “He probably hates nobles more than anyone else. As obnoxious as he is, he does hold skill and ability in high regard. That, and Snoke probably warned him to keep it to himself. My family name is only listed in high-level documents.”

His plump lips twitched to the side, conflict painting over his features. “But he doesn’t hate you.”

It was obvious what Ren was getting at, but you were surprised at the restraint in his words. You half-expected him to launch into you like a jealous rancor at the suggestion of your intimacy with the General. To accuse you of wanton ways and dishonor. Ren instead seemed to be only prodding at the notion, dancing around the nature of your relationship with General Firecrotch. “He does. He just loves opportunity and power more than he hates me.”

Conflict was replaced by distrust. “I find that difficult to believe.”

Ren was a jealous man. That was something you already knew, but there was a vulnerability in his words that hadn’t been there before. Given the nature of your activities the previous two nights, you expected him to feel superior to Hux. Kylo Ren had staked an indisputable claim over you, but he seemed concerned that you might not recognize it.

It was a twisted way of giving consideration for your choices and feelings, but it was consideration. Snoke would encourage you to drag it out and toy with him. Make Ren even more desperate for control.

“He’s interested in having some trophy to put his name on. I have no interest in that. Not like there’s any free space on me for him to put it.” So why did you want to encourage him instead?

One of his oversized ears poked out from behind his dark mane, and you could see the color there before it spread to his cheeks. 

Grinning, you walked up the steps to the large wooden door, intricately carved with images of flora and fauna. You had missed big double doors so much in space. 

Pulling both open, you let your voice swell, knowing it would echo into the domed space. “Welcome to the Valek archives. The largest private historical archives in the core and home to the genetic records of the Elder Houses.” You twirled back around to your guest, arms raised with flair, ready to eat up his expression. 

“Excessive ” The sneer was so forced you almost giggled.

Not that the description was inaccurate. The archive was the second largest building in the compound, a free-standing dome covered in frescos that had to be painstakingly restored every decade by the galaxy’s greatest masters. Towering shelves stuffed with real paper records and ancient tablets were interspersed amongst digital records and holo protectors. Where there weren’t books and digital repositories, there were cases full of artifacts from long lost civilizations and modern legacies alike. An entire suit of Mandalorian Beskar armor was on display in the center of the library: an alternating curated exhibit only for those who could secure access to The Garden. You wondered if Omi still had special visit days for school visits like you requested when you were younger. It was one of the only occasions you and Al’lyr got to see other kids your age. 

You popped your hip as you admired the honeycomb workings of the Mandalorian craft. “It’s a rather excessive place if you haven’t noticed.” If Ren had a retort for you, he kept it to himself. He was focused on the centerpiece of the collection of ancient relics taken from the Jedi Temple when it fell: a rare Sith lightsaber. It had always frightened you as a child, but never enough to keep you away from it.

Something about the display didn’t sit right with Ren if the way his hands flexed was any indication. You needed to find your grandmother, but you also needed to distract your temperamental companion. While his tantrums had recently resulted in some more pleasant outcomes, the center of the archives was no place to be losing your clothes. 

The perfect distraction came to mind and you started off towards the alcove. Thankfully, heavy footfalls came behind you, though a bit louder than usual. You hoped the display around the corner would be distraction enough. 

“And here is my favorite part: the Valek family tree.” You gestured him through the arch, watching his gait slow at the sight. 

A giant synthesis of organic life and machine, the biotech tree filled the alcove with brilliant green and warm light. It was elevated off of white marble filled with soil and friendly fungi. Mechanical synthetic wires and node threaded the exposed wood, and holograms of leaves and flowers projected a glow along with real petals and stems. Everything seemed to be constantly moving, as energy and data flickered through the branches. It was a sight. 

“When people say that, they usually don’t mean an actual tree,” his grumble was quiet as you sidled up to him.

“Well those people aren’t very fun. And don’t have excessive amounts of money.” You both started circling the tree in different directions. From across the room, you could see his eyes widen then narrow then widen again as he took in every detail. He would look displeased, curious, impatient, each emotion pulling the muscles of his face in a unique way. 

You had been marveling at the way his lower lip pouted slightly in frustration, when you felt an itch at the back of your neck. On instinct, your eyes darted up. His light brown irises that so often seemed indescribable called to mind only one word. They were  _ molten _ and boring into yours with heat you could feel in your toes. It was too intense for you to maintain eye contact and you looked away first, flushed. 

“if this your family, where are you?” You could hear him smirking as you kept your eyes on a particular branch. Part of you wanted to laugh at his teenage manner of flirting, obvious in its teasing, but then again you had just lost a staring contest, so who were you to judge?

Circling towards him, you made only fleeting glances in his direction. He wanted your attention, but you weren’t going to give it again so easily. “I would take offense to that if I didn’t ask the same question when I was 5. Didn’t seem right that we all had to be flowers.” You reached towards one of the branches, letting your fingertips brush against the sensors on the bark. “Show me my data, please.”

The tree started to glow where you touched it, and the concentration of light hummed as you pulled your hand away, shooting towards the trunk. The light traveled in, then up and out, creating a streak from the base to the very tips of the branches, nodes lighting up the whole way. Where the light ended, a bud appeared, surging to blossom as your data projected ina a hologram from the same point: your name, parentage and a summary. 

As the data hovered before your eyes, The synthetic bud fell to the white marble floor, a soft pink too perfectly formed to be anything but artificial. 

You plucked the blossom from the ground as Ren drew closer, but he scooped it from your hand before you were standing straight.  His thumb rolled over the synthetic flora, searching for an explanation in the folds. “This is too absurd to be real,” he muttered. 

“Everything about this place is too absurd to be real,” you gave a stiff shrugged. You had long gotten over being embarrassed about the extent of the estate— none of it was yours— but his presence brought a foreign sense of shame creeping up your spine. If only he could give some reassurance that he still saw you as the same obstinate politician.

Mighty hands still cradling the token, he eyed the tiles on the ground between you. The way his brows furrowed, it was as if some vast chasm had formed there, threatening to swallow whoever dared to move first. But all you could think of was the contours of his stomach against yours and his mouth buried in your neck. If only the tiles would fold in on themselves, pull you closer even if you never moved a muscle. 

Something flickered beneath his lashes. “Well, it may not be a bird,” a booted foot moved forward, taking a softer step than you thought imaginable, “but a flower isn’t inaccurate.” And he was in front of you. He slipped the blossom behind your ear. Electricity erupted from where his glove brushed against the skin just behind your ear. 

Before you could tease him for the terrible line that had your stomach in knots, his attention turned to the entryway. You had hardly noticed her slippered footfalls. 

“I thought I heard my favorite granddaughter.” Her posture was sharp and steady for a woman surpassing a hundred years old. The angled lines and bright blue gaze of the Valek marked her and she lacked the volume of wrinkles that should have come from decades of smiles and laughter. Draped in shimmering midnight blue robes, there was no question that she was in her domain but the smile your grandmother gave you radiated love.

Your arms wrapped around her thin shoulders as you met and she pressed and dry kiss to your cheeks. “I’m your only granddaughter, Omi,” you chuckled into her silver hair. 

“And yet you never come and visit.” As soon as you pulled apart she was inspecting your face. You hoped she didn’t notice the cover-up caked over the bruises on your neck. Either MH3 was as flawless as usual or her eyesight was failing her because she seemed satisfied and cupped your face in her bony hands. 

“Part of being a grownup, I’m afraid,” you sighed. Rolling her eyes, a gesture she perfected before you, she pinched your cheeks. Yelping, you jumped back, only to catch her hands in yours with a squeeze. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, my starlight.” 

The shuffle of thick robes caught your attention. Ren hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor. He shifted in his heavy boots, uncertain if he should speak or attempt to sneak back into the stone wall. Without his disguise it wasn’t as clear as before that he was a ‘bodyguard’ and given the wicked beginning of a smirk on Omi’s face, you suspected that she had seen the tail end of your interaction. 

Hands folded across her waist, she stepped towards Ren“I am Yvanne Valek, Primacy of the Valek House. Welcome to my home, Ben Organa-Solo.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, slower updates from now on. Working on that self-care. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> SORTA TROS SPOILER WARNING: I’m working out my TROS feelings, like the rest of the fandom. This was never going to be fully canon-compliant, but I was trying to wedge it in there. Now, I’m just going to let this be a fix-it fic in some ways. I have had a “you choose the epilogue” ending planned since day one, and this story ends before TROS, but obviously, some character dynamics here just won’t work with canon.
> 
> I’ll be back at it, after I stop curling up in the shower and crying constantly.
> 
> Also can we all agree they had two movies worth of story there and those characters/arcs deserved another film? Screw the trilogy formula: GOOD STORYTELLING SUFFERED. I NEEDED MORE TIME JJ. 


	18. The Ties that Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: This chapter deals with the subject of abuse and incest.** Dubcon/noncon is not unfamiliar to my readers, but this is much darker than prior chapters. If you need to skip, do. This development is important to understanding RC’s motivations as will become clear over time, but **I will provide a chapter summary in the end notes.**

  
  


Ren ignited the blade before you could register the words out of your grandmother’s mouth, the glow of the weapon mirroring the fury and confusion on his face.

You scrambled to come between Omi and Ren, but you could sense no fear on your grandmother’s part. “Oh, put that thing away, boy,” her voice was like the surface of Hoth, parsecs away from the warm caregiver she had been moments before. “Do you think I let just anyone enter my home? Even if you are my granddaughter’s escort, the only reason you are here is that I know who you are.”

Ren’s chest heaved, his grip on his weapon likely knuckle-white under his gloves. For all of the violence attributed to him, it was hard to imagine him striking down an old woman in cold blood. But there you were, his body tensing like a compressed coil, preparing to spring forward. “And what makes you so sure,” he practically growled the question.

The scion slipped behind you towards the glowing tree, ignoring what you knew was a weapon of mass destruction. Out of the corner of your eyes, she reached up for a cluster of leaves that came alight in response, the picture of noble disinterest. “Your mother is a member of the Elder Houses, and she has been here before. Her DNA is recorded within our archives. As soon as you stepped out of your ship, you were identified.” The recognition of one of the First Order’s greatest enemies was heavy, even with her name unspoken. “Now, put that thing away. You are my guest, but I will not risk you injuring my family.”

Ren glanced up at the walls to an unseen presence before finally extinguishing his saber. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

Omi’s casual revelation was sticky in your throat. Despite your suspicions, it still caught you by surprise. Not that he was Ben Solo--it made sense that a man with such power over the Force was the nephew of the long lost Jedi and son of one of the First Order’s greatest enemies. The surprise came from Ren’s response to hearing the name, the myth superimposed over the man. Underneath seething rage, it ran through him like lightning, gone in an instant, but unmistakable. 

Fear. 

You didn't think he was capable of the emotion. Anxiety? Probably. Tension? Absolutely. But fear, even for just a moment, was bizarre. Perhaps he never expected to be discovered, though it was hard to see why he would be concerned with an old woman on Coruscant knowing his identity. Before their mission, he didn’t even know that she existed, much less her significance. Ren didn’t bother with the political elites of the galaxy in any regard, and if you were being frank with him, they didn’t really care about Kylo Ren.

The slaughter at the Jedi temple had been a trending topic of discussion among the elites when it occurred, but quickly fizzled out of interest as other, more fashionable subjects took hold. At the time, people had speculated on the loss of Ben Solo, the heir to one of the most important women in the galaxy and the emerging Jedi legacy, but he too was lost to the current of more interesting gossip. The name Kylo Ren made its way into those same circles, but they viewed the First Order as an economic threat as opposed to a lethal one, and the ‘Jedi Killer’ was quickly forgotten.

Whatever had shaken him vanished before you could make sense of it, so you set it aside. Seeking an explanation would only be met with denial, or worse. More pressing was the itch in your mind that was triggered by the name “Ben Solo,” like a lost memory or faded dream.

A cloaked arm wove through your own. “Now that’s settled, we have some business to attend to.” Your grandmother guided you back to the moment and through the stone arches towards the center of the house. 

“Business,” you crooked an eyebrow at her. You had about as much say in Valek business as a member of the kitchen staff.

She gave a playful slap to your arm, the warmth of her affection making her smile even as she chastised you. “You have been away for three whole name days! And you never check in with coordinates where I can send things to you.” Of course you didn’t send her coordinates. Your position with the Order was a secret, and you never stayed in one location long enough for it to matter. 

“Omi, I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t need to send me name day gifts.” You were also running out of trunk space.

“When else am I supposed to give you all the fun things I find during my travels?”

On the other hand, maybe you could find some more space.

 

* * *

 

_ Without his mask, Kylo had to fight to keep his face even, expressionless.  _

_ The matron had dragged the Counselor to what looked like living quarters, and Kylo had taken up his post of mute observant, leaning against yet another massive stone pillar. As much as he despised watching and waiting, it gave him a chance to sort through his thoughts. _

_ Being made so easily was infuriating. Kylo had difficulty believing that the old woman had technology that could scan his genetic material so quickly and without his knowledge, which meant she had determined his identity by other means. Few knew of his identity, and even fewer risked discussing it. Ben Solo had been all but vaporized from existence by his own hand, and yet it wasn’t enough. Kylo started to wonder who else knew his identity, who could have revealed his secrets. He should have protected them better. Instead, some old woman he’d never met before was blurting it out in front of RC.  _

_ The counselor. What did she think? Her eyes had widened in surprise for a moment, but then she shifted her focus to standing between Kylo and her grandmother. Would she think less of him knowing that “Ben” was, in fact, Ben Solo? Would she decide he was a traitor? Her fierce loyalty to the Order would say so. He could have searched her mind for the answer, but there was the chance he wouldn’t like the answers he found. _

_ That was a problem: he shouldn’t care what she thought. Whenever Hux was stupid enough to imply anything about Ben Solo, Kylo just beat the shit out of the other man to remind him of his place. The general’s opinion was worthless. The counselor’s revelation shouldn’t have been any different. _

_ He snuck a peek to where she was leaning over a mirror, admiring a pair of beryl earrings she had just unboxed. They were the size of ten-credit tabs, but if anyone could wear them, she could. That’s right: she was just a pretty girl with too much money and time, no sense for battle, and her opinion didn’t matter.  _

_ But her opinion did matter. Kylo sometimes wondered if instead of the Supreme Leader using him to test the counselor’s loyalty, she was meant to be a test of his. Just being in the counselor’s presence left him vulnerable to his former identity in ways he had forgotten, ways that he hated. Sarcasm and teasing were immature traits Ben Solo inherited from his father, from Han Solo, who’s flippancy and rambling left his son adrift. Yet every conversation with RC made Kylo slip into his old ways, stealing his focus away from his quest for power.  _

_ Every time he looked at her, he could feel something tug at the back of his mind, like deja vu. The way her soft skin felt under his calloused hands. The delicate aroma of forest roses. The slightest pinch of her brows, like she was studying every last detail of his face. When he tucked the flower behind her ear, the move to lean forward and kiss her was less one of desire and more instinctual; was it something he had dreamt before? Gentleness was a foreign concept in his present life, but he slipped into it so naturally at the sight of her smile. Like he was Ben Solo again. _

_ It was almost frightening how easy it was to forget himself around her. And the more time he spent with her, the farther Kylo Ren would slip away. _

_ Despite that, he couldn’t tolerate the idea that she would pull away, not when he could feel her presence a hair’s breadth away no matter how far apart they were. He remembered the way she told him she wanted to change the galaxy, to be more than her family name. Her conviction to define herself as an individual was captivating and all too familiar. How many hours had he cradled his grandfather’s helmet, praying that he would prove to be as powerful as Darth Vader, but angry that the man he never knew gave into the weakness of sentiment? Toeing that infernal line of legacy and supremacy. For all the weaknesses of Ben she uncovered, Kylo was infatuated and needed to have her. He had to consume her, no matter how foolish or dangerous it was. He wouldn’t let her go until he did.  _

_ Kylo forced himself back to the room around him. Maybe he could feel out the technology behind the walls and understand the defenses. He couldn’t imagine he would ever return to the massive estate, but it would keep his mind away from more dangerous thoughts.  _

_ Slowing his breaths, he reached out through the Force and skimmed over the myriad of surfaces in the room. Everything was full of life and memories in a way that only ancient places were. Even the stones behind the plaster remembered generations. But beneath that life was a dizzying network of scanners, commlinks, sensors, defenses. The open archways and large windows were a facade: it was a fortress. The challenge to find weaknesses stirred and he let himself slip further into the Force, looking for his prize.  _

_ Rage and lust barreled into him, a humming aura knocking aside his focus. Someone was approaching the room with furious purpose. Kylo directed his attention to the source, anxious that an assassin had pursued them. He latched on to the frayed mass of anger, the thoughts too quick and erratic to follow. Unhinged. But he pushed through and found the epicenter just as the doors burst open.  _

_ The man’s body was drawn tense like a snake about to strike and his pale eyes darted around the room for his target. Kylo moved between her and the man so that light blue eyes drove into him like ice spikes, lips curling into a snarl that had him reaching for his saber. His sudden movement had RC on her feet, a reprimand about to fall from her lips.  _

_ “Behave yourself, Al’lyr.” The old woman’s voice came from behind, still seated on a plush sofa.  _

_ In an instant, Al’lyr’s face was in complete opposition to the feeling Kylo had sensed: a warm smile that almost reached his eyes. Almost. “Omi, why didn’t you tell me my favorite cousin arrived?” The serpent moved toward the seat opposite Yvanne Valek, positioning himself closer to RC’s chair at his side, but Kylo pivoted to keep between them. It was where he would have remained if he didn’t feel a firm hand clasp at his bicep.  _

_ She said nothing, but the Counselor’s impatience was stamped across her face. He wanted to tell her about her cousin’s intentions: did she know how much violence and hatred her supposed family had for her? Kylo had assumed she wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall prey to sympathetic weakness, but she was glaring up at him in a way that stilled his tongue. The silence held until he gave in, shrugging her hand off as he moved into her shadow. She could move him aside, but she couldn’t keep him from staying close. _

_ The matriarch hardly glanced at her heir, keeping her focus on RC. While her tone wasn’t as cold as it had been with Kylo, it was dismissive and nowhere near as sentimental as it had been with her granddaughter.  “You saw her the other night. Don’t be such a child.” _

_ Al’lyr shot a victorious sneer at Kylo as he slid into the large chair opposite of his grandmother, but shifted to a smile again as a droid appeared at his arm with a steaming teacup. “In a crowd of people where you know she was too busy charming everyone. Is it childish to want some time alone?” The relaxed and playful way the reptilian man spoke, the way he lounged—the disjunction from the palpable rage moments ago made Kylo’s head spin. _

_ The old woman’s lips held tight for a moment, but her expression finally conceded to exasperation. “I suppose not. Take her to see the new aquarium. She hasn’t visited since it was installed. I’ll send for dinner.” Al’lyr hopped out of the seat, moving towards the Counselor once again.  _

_ Kylo thought he saw fear cross her face, but it was gone so quickly he could have imagined it. The longer he watched, the more layers of boredom and disinterest she seemed to plaster on, almost a mask. She said nothing, she didn’t look at him as she rose, following her cousin, but he knew something was wrong. He moved after her, almost reaching a hand over the fluttering material of her robe. _

_ “Young Solo, come with me. I must discuss something with you.” _

_ The name brought his hackles up, but at least her grandmother’s sharp inflection pulled back RC’s attention. Her lips opened slightly as she caught Kylo’s stare, but she closed them without a word and continued on her way.  _

_ If she didn’t care about her wellbeing, then neither did he. Let her fight on her own. Yvanne’s eyes were trained on him as he turned, and she gestured to the seat across from her. “Sit.” He didn’t like occupying the same space the snake had just moments ago, but he obeyed. _

_ “It is a surprise that I find you with my granddaughter. I know that she has pursued some questionable connections, but this alignment is very unusual. I don’t believe you have followed your mother’s path.” Her eyes darted to his saber, the recent memory of its red glow beneath her words. The way she spoke, she probably knew more about her granddaughter’s allegiance than she let on. Politics seemed to have no place among the Valek, despite obvious influence. As much as Kylo could sympathize with wanting to avoid the worms that filled the Republic government, it was a waste that people with such power didn’t use it. With so much wealth they could probably afford a private army to exact their will. It was no wonder RC had found her way to the First Order.  _

_ Kylo sensed the Primacy measuring him from over her teacup. Something about her eyes was unsettling, even for him, as if she could see through him and into his mind. For a woman who had lived for at least a hundred years in luxury, she felt sharp, tempered like steel. It was the same edge RC showed when cornered, but it filled the old woman, despite her maternal niceties.  _

_ Finally, she appraised him. “I will not inform anyone that we have met. I can sense you wish your identity and location to remain secret. However, I have a condition for you.” The porcelain cup barely chimed as she brought it down to its saucer, but it filled the tense air like a rolling gong. _

_ “Condition?” The exact reason why he didn’t want anyone to know his identity. Kylo Ren was beholden to nothing, acting only for his goals. The ghost of Ben Solo, however, could be exploited. He tightened his grip on the armrest. The Counselor probably didn’t want him to kill her grandmother.  _

_ Bisected by her eyes again. It was unnatural how they made him feel exposed, gutted. Past her eyes, her expression wasn’t proud or domineering, but almost curious. “Keep my granddaughter safe. Your paths are tightly intertwined, so I ask that you protect her from the dangers you both shall face.” _

_ Paths.  _

_ That was what he felt.  _

_ “You’re Force sensitive.” _

_ She waved her hand, unperturbed. “It occurs in the bloodline, but it is not important.” Kylo almost leaned back as Yvanne leaned forward, the weight of her presence incontestable. Only someone exceptionally powerful or exceptionally stupid would consider the Force unimportant, and she didn’t seem stupid. Before him was a woman who had some Force sensitivity and deemed her other abilities or resources more powerful. “What is important is that the Force moves between you two in a... curious way. Powerful, maybe even dangerous. I have not seen such a strange connection before. Even as lovers, it is different.” _

_ He jumped in his seat, “We’re not--“ _

_ Amused laughter made him flush more than her accusation. “Oh? And what are you then? Her business partner? Her bodyguard? Don’t insult me with lies, boy. I may be an old woman but I know what desire looks like. Even without the Force I can see your intentions.” He needed to leave as soon as possible. Kylo had never felt as vulnerable on any battlefield as he did under her gaze. “It is not a match I would have endorsed, but I am not so naive to think I could deny it. All I ask is that you keep her safe. She can be reckless.” _

_ “I’m aware.” The incident on Kiffu had proven her recklessness, if her general lack of self-preservation had not already. He could count on his hand the number of people who had crossed him so many times and lived. He was about to add another name to the list. “Tell no one you saw me and I’ll keep her as safe as she lets me.” _

_ “That is all I ask,” The primacy’s smile defeated any of his remaining pride. “Whether or not you resist the bond is your own choice, but I’m sure you can feel it.” _

_ Kylo had no response to her statement. An admission meant further vulnerability but a denial was a bald-faced lie. Instead, he stood in silence, the old woman’s eyes probing at his face for any indication of intention, much like the way her granddaughter’s did.  _

_ “Go find her then,” she huffed, fanning him away. He almost bowed on instinct but caught himself. She even brought out Ben Solo’s weak old habits. With a clip of his boots, he turned and headed the way RC had gone.  _

_ Every step came with a strange confidence. He told himself it was because now he could excuse his infatuation as something out of his control, but the truth was taking root beneath his justifications. The idea that RC was bound to him in a way that no one could deny, not even Snoke, was thrilling. He had a claim over her. A smirk threatened his scowl. Perhaps he would demonstrate what that meant.  _

 

* * *

 

As old as the estate was, new marvels manifested every time you returned. Where once an interior meditation garden had offered respite, a massive tank extended to the ceiling. Instead of being raked into steady designs by your late grandfather, the sand was milled around by colorful fishes hoping to impress mates and stake the limited territory of the tank. 

“They’re from Manaan,” Al’lyr’s voice startled you. There was a comfortable distance between you that was distinctly  _ uncomfortable _ as you followed him to the new installation. If you were twenty, or even ten years younger, you would have been holding hands, racing towards adventure together. But time only moved forward, and the chasm of distrust between you could never be filled. 

You followed his voice around the curved structure, finding his piercing eyes, his inheritance. Distorted through layers of thick glass, water, and fish, they were almost the eyes your childhood recognized. Your best friend. But just like the lone shark in the tank, there was a constant predatory threat that existed in the cold pools of his irises. You shifted your gaze instead to the vacant, beady fish eyes, ignoring his attempt at conversation. If you engaged, you would have to face what had happened before, the words said down the hall that echoed in your heart at night no matter where in the galaxy you went. Did it haunt him?

His presence was gravitational, and despite your better judgment, you looked to him again, praying you might find guilt or humility.

He was gone. 

The hands on your shoulders spun you faster than you could track, Al’lyr’s arms fencing you against the tank. “I don’t like being ignored,” the shell of your ear burned at his words.

Pressing his chest away, pressing the tremor in your veins down, you tried to strangle him with your eyes. “Try not being a prick then.”

The eyeroll he gave you was one you had perfected together. “All I did was make sure you came home. Hardly selfish of me.” You could smell the botanicals and musk on his skin that snuck past his tunic in subtle waves. The familiarity made you sick. He bent his head down, trying to bridge the distance you enforced with your palms, his studded tongue unapologetically dipping out to wet his lip. 

“Stop running from me,” his words were quieter but no less sharp, stabbing.

“I’m not running. I have real work now, real purpose,” you finally shoved your way through his arms, pacing along the tank.

“Working for the First Order hardly seems like a  _ real _ purpose for someone of our stature,” he followed, taunting. Of course, he had discovered your new allegiance; either he had you followed long enough to piece the truth together or someone had loose lips. He wanted you to demand a source, but you refused to rise to the bait, focusing on returning to safety. 

“I affect billions of lives. I work for the most powerful man in the galaxy,” but you had to say something. Damn your pride.

Even as your feet moved faster across the hall, you could hear his own gaining on you. “Don’t be so melodramatic, cousin. Snoke is hardly the most powerful man in the galaxy. If you want to work for power, real power, you need to stay here.” Your wrist was captured by long fingers. Al’lyr pulled your arm roughly, making you snap backward against a stone wall. Off-balance, you were easily cornered again. “Besides, this political endeavor of yours needs to come to an end. I can’t have you spoiling my house’s name.” His words were everything you hated about the Elder Houses: vain, self-important, and far removed from the realities of the trillions of other lives in the galaxy.

“Can’t be doing any worse than you are. At least I’m doing something with it.” The venom in your veins couldn’t overcome your fear. Al’lyr wasn’t above hurting you to get his way. Even if he was no longer holding you, his arms against the wall felt like an extension of the stone and steel. 

He lowered his face to yours, his gaze sliding through your own to slip through your mind like an unshakable fish hook. “No, sweet cousin. You should be here, focusing on continuing the bloodline. Serving your purpose.” If only all the air in the room could evaporate. All the way down into your lungs.

“My children won’t be Valek so I don’t see how that’s my purpose.”

“Of course  _ our  _ children will be Valek.” The hairs on your neck and arms were stock straight and your heart was clawing at your ribcage.

“Your children will be.”

There was no give in the wall as you tried to press your cheek into it and disappear. One of Al’lyr’s hands pinched your chin and turned you to face him. “Don’t be coy. You know what I mean.”

No matter how much of a monster he was, the earnestness in his pale eyes was more painful than the vice of his fingers. Beneath everything, the person you loved best in the world still lived, held hostage by some sickness. But that wasn’t the person before you.

“You’re disgusting,” you shot a wad of spit against his cheek.

Snarling, he released your face to wipe the insult away. You moved to scramble out while he was distracted, but just a hair faster, he snatched your wrists and held them captive above your head. “You’ve become troublesome since you left. Do I need to remind you of your place again?” 

“Fuck off,” you wished you didn’t recognize your voice, but you did. The trembling whisper, the sound of hope curling in on itself, was a reflexive tone. The substance was irrelevant. 

Confident that you were subdued, he brushed his fingers down your throat as he pressed closer to you. He didn’t grip it tight, but you still felt like you were suffocating. “It seems I do. Not that I mind, though maybe this time I won’t be so gentle?” The stud in his tongue scraped a line up your neck, reflecting the path his hand made past your breast and down your stomach. Everything fell out of focus, buzzing. 

“Please stop, Al,” maybe if you closed your eyes, you would drift to sleep, and it would be over by the time you woke. You just wanted it to be over. 

“I have been dreaming of this moment for ages. You left so suddenly last time—”

The bestial roar was louder in your self-imposed darkness. The weight along your body that you had been trying to ignore was gone. You opened your eyes only after the sharp snap of bone and the pained scream bounced along the wall and into your ear, just in time to watch a wall of black swallow your body.

“You broke my arm!” Al’lyr was slumped against the wall opposite you. His arm hung unnaturally low out of his socket, dripping blood onto the tiles below. 

Kylo thrust you behind him with one arm and ignited his lightsaber with the other. “I told you what would happen if you touched her again.” There had to be a sneer on those thick lips and unspeakable rage in those brown eyes. You might not be able to see it, but you could hear it.

“I will have you gutted like the worthless swine you are,” Al’lyr retorted with equal viciousness, and you knew he was taunting the knight into action. The Garden’s defensive AI would have been activated by your cousin’s injury, only hesitating to fire on Kylo because of your proximity. If he moved even an inch away from you, the defense system would target him with prejudice. And if he somehow survived, you weren’t sure your cousin would.

You gripped at the arm forcing you away, trying to remove the fear from your voice. “We’re leaving, Ren.”

“I’m not finished,” he shook your grip without looking, but failed to escape.

“Yes, we are!”

He responded to the need in your voice, confusion filling his face when he finally turned to you. The muscles under your hand refused to relax, waiting for permission to slaughter all that opposed him. A familiar probing sensation reached into your thoughts, and for once, you could feel what it was searching for: how to protect you, to give you what you needed. 

Describing the sensation as intimate wasn’t adequate. Instead of building a wall, you let him strip your soul bare, feel your absolute need to leave, to escape with him. It was all-encompassing and closer than skin on skin. If what you felt was the Force, then you prayed that you were soothing the discord inside him, giving him peace. And you felt him respond, relax under your touch, and move to turn away. 

A rough chuckle broke through your connection. “Ah, so the Jedi Killer takes orders from my little cousin.”

Thank the stars you had not released your grip as Kylo whipped around like a storm, eager to crush your cousin into the wall. 

“Please, Kylo,” Al’lyr was relentless and all you had left was desperation. 

Another pause, another growl, and he turned, jerking you roughly as he sped down the hall. You didn’t resist, willing to be manhandled if it meant that he would retreat. As you made your way towards the exit, you heard one last rasped taunt.

“There’s nowhere you can run, cousin!”

“Just watch me,” you whispered beneath your breath. 

 

* * *

 

As soon as the speeder had returned to the ship and you had boarded the yacht, you escaped to your room. Ren was silent on the speeder, but you could feel his temper climbing to a boil beneath his rigid exterior and you didn’t want to be around when it ran over.  Instead, you curled on top of the bed and listened to the New Republic news commfeed on your datapad. It did little to drown out the buzzing in your head. 

The hours clicked by, MH3 bringing you food and fresh cups of hot tea, all of which you ignored. You flicked between feeds and sites, mindlessly following feeds from news to gossip to music while you drafted your requisite mission report. Your neck and back started to cramp from your strange position, but you couldn't find the motivation to move. 

A pneumatic hiss at your back cut through the commentary on a recent Senate vote. Without looking, you could feel his presence looming just outside the door.

“You haven’t eaten.” It wasn’t a question. The tray of greens MH3 had brought in earlier remained on the small bedside table, untouched. 

“I’m not hungry. Too many sweets with tea.” You didn’t look at Ren, pretending to be engrossed in the commfeed.

Despite your best efforts to ignore him, heavy footfalls came closer before the door closed. “I didn’t think you were a coward, Counselor.” 

He was fishing for your attention, but you weren’t going to take the bait. “Is that what I am,” you tried to sound unmoved by his taunts.

“Hiding away in your room like a child.” You swiped your finger across the datapad, changing the commfeed channel. Anything to drown out his presence. 

“I’m not hiding. Just enjoying some peace and quiet.”

The bed dipped beside you. Strong hands scooped around your back and lifted you up, bringing you to stand and face him. You were surprised to find that he had removed his cowl, gloves and heavy tunic, leaving on only his thin pants and undershirt. Instead of Commander Kylo Ren, ‘Ben’ had returned. His long hair remained down, however, waiting for you to run your fingers through it.  As soon as your gaze connected, he leaned forward, almost pressing his forehead to yours, but releasing his grip on you. “Look me in the eyes when you lie to me.” The rough tone of his voice almost made you melt.

“Leave me alone, Ren,” you swallowed, turning away.

Unwilling to let you evade him another second, he followed your movements. “Since we met, you’ve felt the need to remind me that you can't be controlled, that you’re undaunted by strength, but you hide from him.” His hands hovered around your shoulders, but he didn’t touch you. Even as his words stung with truth, you could tell he was struggling to be gentle. 

“You don’t understand,” you leaned into one of his hands, giving him permission to breach the space between you.

Needing no further encouragement, his other arm wrapped around your waist. The embrace made you realize how much you had wanted to wrap yourself in him, your hands resting against his firm chest. The moment at the estate had left you aching to mimic the meeting of minds with the meeting of bodies, to reenact the passion of the night before. You wanted Kylo to find his way inside you and wipe your mind of everything else. 

As if sensing your need, he stepped even closer, tucking your head under his chin. You could hear him breathing the fragrance of your shampoo in, and you returned the gesture, pressing your face into his shirt. How had you never noticed how perfect he smelled? “No, I don’t understand. I saw what he did and I don’t understand how he still breathes.”

Your head snapped back. “What?”

That hesitation was back, his brow knitted, but his hands stayed firm. “I saw what he did to you. What he was about to do,” he mumbled.

Shame. Shame and anger pumped through your veins and the places where your bodies connected went from soothing to blistering. You ripped away from his grip. 

“Then you need to forget anything you saw.”

He took a step towards you again, but no further. “If I see him again, I’m going to kill him.” The darkness in his eyes and the pull of lips told you he would make good on his promise. If Al’lyr and Ren ever crossed paths again, one of them would die. It would be your fault.

“I let it happen,” you couldn’t look at him. More than ever you hated how he could peer inside you, inside anyone he chose, to see the worst pieces of your heart. You had let it happen all those years ago and you didn’t want to think about it and Ren should have never known and needed to forget it like you did. As much as you hated your cousin you also loved him and bore that sin. All your fault. 

“Even I know that’s a lie. You struggled and he enjoyed it.”

“It doesn’t matter, Kylo,” suppressed sobs hardened into a painful lump in the back of your throat. You wouldn’t cry. “It is in the past and I intend to leave it there.”

“Why did you go along with him? I could have protected you,” he was incorrigible. Why couldn’t he just let the past die? Let it get swallowed up and buried in the sands of time.

“I was fine.”

Any concern for gentleness was gone, lost to his search for vengeance and control. He gripped your jaw so that you had to look into those indescribable eyes, pulsing with confusion and rage. “Stop making excuses! You were in danger and you didn’t tell me. Instead, I had to find him trying to rape you, apparently not the first time.”

The word was unforgiving as it left his mouth, striking you across the face like an open palm.  

It took both of your hands on his wrist to rid your face of his pinching grip. “Don’t talk about what you don’t know, Ren,” you turned and retreated towards your bed where you could pull the covers up and vanish.

The Commander wasn’t easily dissuaded or distracted, his hands following your arm to pull you back again. There was no escaping his probing. No matter where you directed your gaze, he moved so that you were forced to meet his own, bending down to remain eye level while turning your body to his. “Why? Why would you let someone who betrayed you—hurt you— continue to live? Are you so lacking in respect that you don’t even respect yourself?!”

“Because he is my family,” you snapped. Just as there was no escaping Kylo Ren, there was no escaping the truth.

“That’s no excuse,” he had the nerve to pull back his face and snarl, like your response was offensive to him.

He had no right to shout at you, to be angry, to invade your mind. You were sick of him trying to control you. He was just as bad as every other man in your life, thinking he could tell you anything. “Unlike you, I don’t run from my family,  _ Solo _ .”

Ren’s eyes widened at the name, and he made the smallest tumble back. The small surge of victory you felt at knocking him down was quickly swallowed by realization and terror. For a long moment, he let the statement roll through the air and in his mind, before his eyes narrowed and his posture went tall and rigid. Even if you had called him by name, Ben Solo ceased to exist, and he certainly ceased to protect you. The Commander’s voice rumbled with violence even at a whisper. 

“If you tell anyone about me, I will know. And I will kill you.” He remained long enough to watch the threat settle into your expression before turning his back to you and storming out. You stood still where he left you, the words percolating before the weight of the conversation finally took you down to the mattress. Pulling the covers around you, you let the ball of tears that had been clumping in your throat burst and trickle down your face.

 

* * *

 

“Ma’am, we’ve got about twenty minutes until we disembark. Are you awake?” The sergeant's voice came through the door. At some point you had fallen asleep, the pillowcase plastered to your cheek with what was probably your own tears and drool. You hadn’t realized how exhausted you were. 

“Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll prepare immediately.”

There was a beat, but deference to your position won out. “Of course ma’am.”

You slung your arm over your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to crawl further under the blankets, to abscond with the yacht for an indefinite holiday, far away from any family or work. Far away from men in masks.

_ If you tell anyone about me, I will know. And I will kill you. _

You shivered. Yes, you knew that Kylo Ren was a lethal force. You had seen him fight. But his voice was so cold, his eyes full of terror and rage. You didn’t think he would kill you, not really, but a wild animal was most dangerous when it was threatened, and you didn’t want to know what the Jedi Killer might do. 

As long as you were near Leader Snoke, however, you would be safe. Ren wouldn’t risk killing you while you were on the  _ Supremacy _ . 

Tucking one last pouch into your travel pack, you began thumbing through the notes on your datapad. Your reports would discuss the negotiations and contacts you established, but nothing about your visit to the Garden, nor your nightly activities. The Supreme Leader would want an update on your progress in that regard. You mulled over what you should omit, as you walked into the galley. 

The sergeant, back in his stormtrooper armor and crimson officer plate, saluted you. “Great timing, ma’am. We’re about to enter the  _ Finalizer _ ’s hangar.”

You went rigid. “The  _ Finalizer _ ?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, hope the warning was clear. This chapter took a lot of time to write partly because I am busy out of my mind (fuck you law school and wedding planning) and also because this was difficult to get right. I went back and forth about whether or not I was going to maintain this aspect of the storyline, but the dynamic between RC and the universe, and ultimately Ren, is deeply affected by the relationship between RC and Al'lyr. More background will come up in future chapters, as well as more interactions. This isn't the last time we will see him.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your patience and continued support—your comments are life! A special thank you as always to wickedness for her edits and input!
> 
> **SUMMARY**
> 
> Granny explains why she knows that Kylo Ren is Ben Solo, so they drink some tea and chill. KR broods, as is his way. Al'lyr shows up and asks to spend time with RC alone. KR stays and talks with Granny, who reveals that she is Force Sensitive and can sense a strange bond between RC and KR. She asks KR to keep RC safe, and he agrees. In another part of the estate, Al'lyr is a creep to RC, physically forcing himself on her and hurting her. It is revealed that he raped her in the past, and RC carries a lot of emotions about it. KR busts in and breaks Al'lyrs arm, and then he and RC leave before things can escalate further. On the ride home, KR confronts RC about what happened and reveals that he read Al'lyr's mind and knows about the rape. RC defensively drops the Ben Solo discovery, and KR threatens that she can tell no one or he will kill her before he leaves. RC goes to sleep and wakes up to find that they are back at the _Finalizer_ instead of the _Supremacy_. 


	19. The Moment of Impact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is looking to be a bumpy ride, my friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I previously put Kylo's perspective in italics. I'm not going to do that anymore because this story will increasingly feature his perspective of event. Chapter 21 is also a dream sequence and I need italics for that. SO. just a note that Kylo's POV is in this chapter, but not in a different format from the reader's POV.

  
  


Near-death experiences had become routine since being assigned to the  _ Finalizer _ , training under Commander Ren, but you never felt beyond saving. Hurtling towards the surface of an uninhabited ice planet in an escape pod that lacked an engine, however, has a sense of finality to it.

Ren was trying to get the emergency thrusters online but the pod had become a mess of red flashes and sparks. He squeezed the controls like he could make them work if he overpowered them. You were doing the only thing you could: curling into a ball in your seat and trying to make peace with your death. No point lifting your head to watch the ground swallow you whole. 

Swears sibilated from his helmet as he pulled the yoke away from the control panel. Whether he had intended to rip out the steering device, or his rage had overwhelmed him, there was no turning back. You peeked from under your arm to watch him give the controls one last kick before his helmet turned towards you.

“Shit,” with a gesture, your harness came undone and you were pulled across the pod into his lap. You wanted to ask him what he was doing, but you had lost your voice somewhere in the planet’s mesosphere, and instead let him manipulate your body around his own. You weren’t sure if it was a mercy he positioned you towards his chest, away from the viewport, or if he was avoiding any further panic on your part. How long did you have before impact? Minutes? Seconds? “Hold on,” he gripped the back of your head and pushed you into the curve of his neck, the other arm wrapping around your waist. 

Maybe if you weren’t so terrified of your imminent demise, you would have felt some smug satisfaction knowing your phobia had been justified all along. You cursed into the folds of his cowl, your last words for the galaxy:

“I hate space.”

 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Your knees hit the mat for the hundredth time in as many minutes as you curled over, gripping your side. Patches of dust and dirt had started to form on your training pants from the repeated gesture, and the material threatened to tear if you went down again. 

“Kriff, Iroki, I’m still using those ribs,” you pulled up your shirt, a sizable bruise already forming where her foot had artfully collided with your torso.

“Then defend them better, Princess,” the Knight gripped under your armpit and helped you back on your feet. Despite your best efforts, Iroki had adopted her lover’s pet name for you, though you rarely saw them together in recent days. One or both of them constantly called away to assist Ren. Not that you could complain; much of the  _ Finalizer _ ’s resources were devoted to tracking down Lor San Tekka following Terex’s failure at Megalox Beta. The traitor had even run off with his old thug crew. 

Thankfully, Iroki was available to train certain mornings while Mero accompanied Ren to strategize with High Command. But when he was released, Iroki would be called away alternatively to execute those strategies. Iroki was the most adept among the Knights in sensing and masking life forces, which you suspected made it easier to hit your vital points during sparring. 

Instead of re-engaging her, you moved to your training bag and took a long drink from your water bottle. “You make me miss training with Phasma, you know that?” Another individual you had seen little of since you had been dragged back to the Finalizer. 

A sharp smack popped across your rear as Iroki grabbed your bottle and took a swig for herself. “She was babying you, and that’s no way to learn. No wonder you got shot.” She laughed at your glare but then moved to her own pack. Long hands fished around until she pulled out a silver tin. Unscrewing the top, the familiar tang of bacta wafted from the scoop of poultice on her finger. There was no hesitation in her gesture as she held your shirt up and gently rubbed the ointment over your ribcage. The aroused and embarrassed flush her touch elicited on the  _ Supremacy _ wasn’t present, but it wasn’t an unwelcome  touch ; the two of you had easily fallen into a pattern of friendship, blossoming trust. You had noticed a streak of viciousness and self-indulgence among the knights that frightened you, but it was absent in Iroki. Unyielding loyalty to Ren that bordered on reverence, sure, but not the same bloodlust even Mero exhibited.

“Thank you,” your gratitude came out gasped as her fingers moved over your tender bones. “Don’t want to be limping and wincing in front of Hux.” She laid the shirt back down over your skin. The bacta gel would be washed off in the shower, but the balm would make walking across the ship back to your quarters tolerable. 

Iroki shoved the tin back into her pack and began stretching beside you. “Still stuck working with him?” Her lip twitched, betraying her amusement. 

While much of the  _ Finalizer _ ’s military intelligence was preoccupied with hunting down Lor San Tekka and any Resistance spies that might be hiding him, you were forced to spend your days preparing for the completion of General Hux’s ‘masterpiece’ as he referred to the hollowed-out planet. ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’ was as old a diplomatic strategy as any, but  _ Starkiller  _ base went parsecs beyond the concept. Literally. Unlike the old Death Stars of the Empire that could be used to threaten a planet,  _ Starkiller _ ’s use of phantom energy would trigger novas, swallowing an entire star system. And instead of having to bring a ship within range of a target planet, the shot could be fired from anywhere, traveling across sub-hyperspace until it met an object of sufficient mass. The culmination of years of research into dark energy. It was horrifying, but if all went well, they would never have to use it. “If the Supreme Leader is punishing me, I think I’d have preferred the spice mines.” 

“Shame he’s such a narcissistic twit—I’d love to trap that redhead between my thighs.” 

Her timing had to be intentional. Water shot into your nose and down your windpipe as you choked, nearly dropping your water bottle. “Please never say that ever again. Actually, never speak to me again. Goodbye,” You moved to gather your things, ignoring Iroki’s wicked grin at your back. 

Undeterred, she continued as she stretched suggestively against the mat. “And Mero’s game. He thinks Hux is secretly a bottom—”

“Nononono— I’m not listening!”

Both of you devolved until a fit of giggles until she finally stood, giving you a playful shove as she moved towards the exit. “I’m sure that if you weren’t fraternizing with Master, you’d have your turn with him.” 

Hux had been clear that you were more than welcome to have a  _ turn _ with him, but your interests were turned elsewhere. “First: been there, done that, never again. Second: I am not  _ fraternizing _ with Ren,” you hissed his name low as possible, fearing another soul might stumble onto your gossip. 

And you weren’t fraternizing with him. At least, you hadn’t in weeks. 

“Something’s been different ever since you two got back from Coruscant. You can’t tell me you two aren’t going at it like beasts during those ‘training sessions,’” you could feel her narrowed gaze, almost hear the lude machinations in her skull. 

Nothing good could come from her further speculation. You trusted Iroki enough to believe she wouldn’t try to read your thoughts or be bold enough to read Ren’s. Grabbing her wrist, you denied her delighted fantasies. “We aren’t. He hardly talks to me, even in training.” It wasn’t really a lie. 

Violet eyes resisted your assertion for a beat, but with a heavy sigh, she rolled them in defeat “No wonder he’s so moody these days.”

“Isn’t he always moody?”

“I’ve been following Master Kylo since I was a youngling, before the Knights of Ren. I know him better than just about anyone and let me tell you this: you’ve had an effect on him.”

You didn’t attempt to hide your confusion or disbelief. While you were learning that the Commander was surprisingly enigmatic, and not in just the foreboding doom sense, he seemed attuned to his desires. You had sown discord in his mind as the Supreme Leader had instructed, and as a result Ren had all but shuttered you out an airlock in terms of attention or affection. Iroki could read the wrinkles forming on your forehead and continued. “Master’s past is... conflicted,” her expression told you she didn’t know you were aware of Ben Solo. Good. “Over the last ten years, he’s been devoted to becoming a Knight of Ren, mastering the Dark Side of the Force and taking control of the galaxy. The way of Ren is about consuming all, to live and exist without restraint. Master Kylo, in his early days, would resist his impulses, spend more time alone meditating. He was unsure about the methods of the Ren, of the First Order, but eventually, he became more chaotic and wilful. But he’s started being hesitant again.”

Hesitation. That was something you had seen on Coruscant, but not since you returned. Just an immovable object. “I’m fairly certain that whatever you think is going on has more to do with this absurd manhunt than me. Once Leader Snoke lets him off his leash again, I’m sure he’ll be back to his usual destruction and growling.”

“When we were young, all he wanted was to do something important for the galaxy, to matter. The way of Ren is about self-interests. Consumption. Desire. Bloodlust. Sometimes...”  _ Sometimes it scares even her _ . Iroki’s brow furrowed just a moment, but you could see her shove it down, silencing any treacherous thoughts.

You kept your next question just above a whisper. “And Mero?” 

Any fear she held was gone, replaced with her usual nonchalant tone and shrug. “Mero’s taken to the way of Ren. Says it makes him feel free.”

The ability to act on every impulse without caring about the consequences did sound liberating, and it gave way to the sort of ruthless retaliation that brought people in line. The Knights  were only brought in for specific circumstances, but the fear those few incidents cultivated had led to a number of bloodless surrenders. “The methods aren’t ideal, but that’s the cost of bringing peace to the galaxy. Order doesn’t come without punishment.” Utilitarianism was never meant to feel good, it was logical.

Iroki smirked at your side. “No wonder you drive him up the wall. You’re so diplomatic.”  
“Someone has to be,” you sighed, coming to the lift to the guest housing. “And on that note, I need to shower and make sure Hux isn’t killing any of our allies. He wants more recruits and troops but doesn’t understand we have to give them something in return.” Half of your days were spent sitting in Hux’s office, curbing his anger and aggression. You deserved Lieutenant Mitaka’s rank and quarters for how often you had to step in to reign the rabid redhead.

“I’ll see you later, Princess.”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Dreamscapes were supposed to serve as a refuge for the mind in chaos, a place to recover from the burdens of reality. When training with his uncle, Kylo often dreamed of racing with his father. When he joined Snoke and the First Order, he would dream of the lakes on Naboo or the fields of Chandrila, the places he could simply exist without purpose, without a name. Even training to master the Force, he needed sleep to recharge. Contrary to rumors, he wasn’t a creature that sustained himself on the souls of others, though he would have to learn how if things continued the way they were. 

Over a month had passed since the mission to Coruscant and Kylo barely slept.  It wasn’t the  bout of nightmares he experienced after a great battle; it had been a long time since woke up shaking from the residual guilt and internal conflict. He could sleep through that. It wasn’t even the insatiable thirst he experienced on the  _ Supremacy _ . No, it was worse, because he knew the exact remedy for his affliction. 

_ I need you, Kylo _ . Her whisper would drift just out of reach, dancing through his mind until he woke up aching. His unconscious thoughts seemed to be intentionally tormenting him, having him dream of those nights in the city, no matter how much control he mustered during the day.

The logical solution would have been to march to the Counselor’s quarters and fuck her until he was satisfied. Fuck her until he collapsed and he slept for weeks. Take her in the middle of one of their damned training sessions Leader Snoke insisted continue, despite more pressing matters. When Kylo protested that the mission needed his full attention, Snoke hadn’t even given him a reason, simply demanded obedience.

The mission. Lor San Tekka was the key to finding  _ him _ , Kylo knew it in his bones, but the old man kept slipping out of his grasp. Terex’s failure at Megalox Beta had Kylo and the Knights of Ren combing through the galaxy for leads again, using the  _ Finalizer _ as their base of operations. It was ridiculous being forced to work with Hux and Phasma after their proven incompetence, but he couldn’t work alone. Not when his mind was under attack from his own desires.

Every muscle fiber and ligament fought to give in and finally unwind, but each time impulse threatened to overtake him, he remembered: RC knew about Ben Solo. She was a ruthless opponent who wasn’t above getting her hands dirty, and unlike Hux, she didn’t seem to fear Kylo Ren. There was no predicting what she would do with the knowledge that their greatest enemy was his mother, that he bore Skywalker blood. His initial assumption was that the Counselor would have no use for the information. For all of the ambition she displayed, she was loyal to the Order in her bones and content in her position. She showed no interest in obtaining military authority or rallying loyalty away from him. Then, Kylo remembered the negotiation with Zetulus, how she used the young captain’s political aspirations to secure a foothold in the Chiss. Information of any sort was a weapon in her hands. To be made a pawn in her games would be unacceptable. 

And so Kylo chewed the inside of his cheek raw across the table from her in the small training room, trying to focus on the paths of her mind and not the line of her neck. He was glad to have his mask on again, otherwise, she would have seen right through him. A moment of weakness was all she needed to hook her claws in him and have him tumbling into madness. 

“Are you ready?”

A pause too long. “Of course,” her body straightened in her seat. She was distracted, perhaps tired. The mazes and obstacles she had been creating were predictable, enough so that he easily followed them to her mind, or they were simply bowled over. It was torture enough having to sit through these lessons and she wasn’t even going to try?

“Don’t waste my time, Counselor,” Kylo pushed out of his chair, already plotting a course to the nearest training droid. Anything he could tear apart.

“I’m sorry, Commander.” Where he expected snark, came softness, stopping his departure. Her eyes were closed, a sigh of resolution in process when he looked at her. Determination had returned when she returned his gaze. “I think it would help me if I better understood the Force.”

“My useless ‘magic techniques,’” he couldn’t tell if she was trying to placate him, her hidden motivations.

RC rolled her eyes, exposing the genuine exasperation he had observed on Coruscant. “You and the Supreme Leader are able to use it in ways I will never understand, but if I’m going to be effective, I need the basics.” Her perfect lips barely betrayed a smile. Yes, even as she was asking for help, she was ready for battle.

But he wouldn’t let her have her way so easily. He walked to the chair opposite her but refused to sit, towering over the scene. “There is nothing basic about the Force.”

“Of course not, but supposedly it is what underlies all life in the universe, no? I can feel something when you’re in my mind, and I want to understand what it is.” How far she had come. He couldn’t help but grin behind the shield of his helmet.

“So you can fight back.”

“Exactly.”

The smirk that pulled on the corner of her mouth threatened to unmake him, strip him bare of the anger and suspicion that kept him standing. If the way his pulse quickened at the small expression was anything to go by, he would have a heart attack if she ever gave him a direct smile.  “There are tomes I can lend you that will serve as a better teacher.”

“You keep books? Actual, physical books?” Shit. Not a direct smile but the genuine curiosity and surprise. She wasn’t making fun of him, not with her eyes shining bright and unguarded. Shit. 

Even as Kylo Ren sought to destroy every remnant of his weak doppelganger, reflections lingered. Ben Solo’s library on Chandrila, his calligraphy set at the temple. What would she think about those things? “I like things I can touch. And most literature on the subject is forbidden or classified. Not suitable for datapads.” He wanted to touch. 

“Agreed,” she gave him that slight smile again and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining those delicate fingers dragging across a worn page, then down his stomach. “I would be grateful for them. For now, can you tell me what the Force is like for you?”

“In our next lesson. I’ll have the books sent to you,” he turned and left as he spoke, wasting no time to escape her thrall. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Admiral Griss was the steel to Pryde’s flint. Every detail of the First Order was assessed and apportioned with the older human’s oversight, ensuring a solid foundation for the new order to build upon. Many of your contracts and negotiations were conducted with his oversight and objectives in mind, particularly as it related to technology. You were often in lockstep with the man, and you knew to fight with him over any administrative details was a gauntlet. His dark eyes reminded you of that fact as you sat across from his hologram.

“Respectfully, sir, my station is hardly secure with a localized shield, ” the colonel kept a still expression on his long and pointed face. A bold move on his part to assert that  _ Starkiller _ base was his. Everyone, particularly among the High Command, understood that  _ Starkiller _ belonged to Hux, an extension of the young general’s ambition. The colonel was nothing more than a glorified administrator at best and a scapegoat at worse. From the tight line of Hux’s lip, he was displeased with the assertion. 

“Starkiller base possesses one of the most advanced shield systems in the galaxy, so any insecurities you experience are likely a product of management, Datoo.” Dropping the older man’s title was just twisting the knife in the wound.

Even as he likely bit his tongue until it bled, the colonel continued. “It’s just... inefficient. If it were to ever go offline, the time to reset, the time to travel across a planet—“

“ _ If _ it were to ever go offline. Something highly unlikely.” A threat to the colonel’s life was implicit, and you watched him shudder as Hux cut him off. 

“Datoo raises an interesting point, General,” Admiral Griss, who had been largely a specter of efficiency, sounded almost amused. “If this is going to be our primary weapon in the coming battle, we need to ensure that it is properly protected before we engage the Resistance or the Republic. Delaying testing until a new shield system is in place would be prudent.”

Hux’s skin flushed deeper and deeper as the implications sunk in. “The Starkiller is scheduled for a test fire in the boundary of wild space in a month— a new shield system would take months to install!”

“The test will have to be delayed then, General,” he easily dismissed a man who was supposedly his equal in rank. The Admiral didn’t care about the shield. No, this was Griss acting to assert the authority of the Navy over the Armed Forces, and more importantly, Pryde’s authority over Hux. Leader Snoke’s favoritism for Hux was a secret to no one, but many in the Order saw Pryde and Griss as the real authority in the Order, at least as an administrative body, and with vastly greater numbers under their command. Stormtroopers and pilots were more technically advanced and skilled than regular combatants, but they were only a fraction of the First Order’s authority. Hux had no other comeback for the man but rage, you could see it in his white-knuckled grip; you, on the other hand, did.  

“Admiral, to replace the current shield system will cost a vast amount of credits and delay the overall completion of the project. We need to direct our attention to the construction of additional destroyers and communication relays if we are going to have a feasible galaxy-wide attack strategy.” As well as a new medical station, regional command centers, and a number of other administrative fixtures that would allow for the Order not just to conquer territories, but keep them. 

“RC, as head of the operations for our naval forces, I’m aware of these concerns.”

The admiral wasn’t going to answer beyond the chain of command, a chain you were bound by, but not one of which you were a part, like a pet on a leash. What Griss had forgotten was the hand at the end of the leash. “I’m sure you are Admiral Griss, just as I’m sure you’re aware that the Supreme Leader has prioritized the completion of the Starkiller for some time. He is expecting the results of the upcoming test.”

“The Supreme Leader will understand the delay is necessary to protect our technology,” his stoicism remained, but for a small twitch of muscle along his jaw.

Your interjection had given your least favorite general time to regroup, targeting his opponent’s weakness. “Colonel, if the shield is localized, what is the only way to deactivate the shield?”

“From the local control point.”

“And is there any way to breach the shield,” Hux drawled rhetorically, so comfortable in the coming response he reminded her of a cat sprawling out in the afternoon sun.

Datoo’s voice broke as he responded, realizing he was cannon fodder for men above his station. “The fractional rate means that a ship traveling at superluminal speeds could breach the shield.”

“And then crash into the planet’s surface?” The general didn’t bother hiding his smirk.

No point rubbing salt in the wound. “Gentlemen, the Supreme Leader has made it clear that Starkiller Base is a priority for the First Order and has asked me to assist the General in completing the project in time for him to observe a test of the new technology.”

Even if his conflict was with Hux, Griss’s cold stare was focused on you. You had chosen a side and there would be repercussions. “Fine. I will let the Allegiant General Pryde know you have decided to move forward.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” you simpered as the older man’s visage blinked out, his transmission and patience terminated. 

Datoo’s blue face seemed to still be processing the fight as Hux struck the killing blow. “Dismissed, Colonel,” Hux sneered as he shut off your own transmission. The colonel would never forget his place again, and probably sleep with his blaster if he was smart. 

The meeting finished, you rose from your seat, already running through the various ways Griss would find to screw you over in the coming weeks. You hardly noticed Hux falling into step beside you as you both headed toward the command deck. “Your support was surprising, Counselor.” 

“Don’t get used to it. The Admiral was delaying the project intentionally, and the longer this project takes, the longer I’m stuck here.” Working on a giant death machine, while an exercise of your skills and the First Order’s might, was not how you wanted to support the Supreme Leader. War was inevitable, but if everything went according to plan, if Ren satisfied Snoke’s vanity and paranoia, if you put every game piece in play,  _ Starkiller _ would remain a monument to the Order’s technological supremacy and Hux’s ego.

“Of course. Well, your efforts are appreciated. I apologize that I have not been more hospitable to your participation in these matters.” His concession caught you off-guard and you couldn’t help but take a sidelong glance. Arms folded behind him, back straight, the absence of his greatcoat bringing the proud lines of his physique in sharp relief as you stepped onto the massive bridge. Unlike Ren, who only seemed comfortable in his skin when piloting or fighting, Armitage Hux seamlessly filled the contours of an officer. For as young and pigheaded as he was, Hux played his role well. 

“No one likes to share their toys, General. I can’t fault you for a lack of restraint.”

“Well, I’ll try not to act like an impudent child from now on,” he recognized the insult but didn’t let it get the better of him. Maybe if he grew a beard, you wouldn’t find him so intolerable.

You joined him to stand in the middle of the command deck, making sure to position yourself away from the massive viewport, and coincidentally toward the general. “Don’t make such accommodations on my account.” 

Disregarding the numerous officers milling about—or more likely, because of them—Hux reached out and dragged a gloved hand down your arm as his eyes roamed your frame. “I assure you, RC, I can be very accomodating.” Not even a beard would keep you from punching him.  

Before your fist could launch towards his smarmy face, the lift to the bridge hissed open behind you. You recognized the gait of the new arrival before you turned to his helmed face. Ren stopped short as he came off, then stormed forward towards you. From the set of his shoulders, a tantrum seemed imminent, and the streak of terror on Hux’s face clarified it was the posture Ren took before violent acts of insubordination. However, the commander swept past you, instead pulling up coordinates on the ship's navigational chart. Snapping his mask around, his words were clipped. “We have a lead on the target, General. Prepare a transport for my full division.”

Hux exhaled with relief but snapped back into his role as a smarmy commanding officer. “Your full division, Ren?” Over three hundred men. What sort of attack was he launching into? 

Ren ignored the question, reviewing details on what transport ships were available, and sending an alert to his division to prepare for combat. “Coordinate with Intel and have TIE-Fighters prepared. I will not tolerate any delay.”

Circling around the other man, Hux squinted at the coordinates then balked in confusion. “You need this many men for a mission to an uninhabited sector?”

Ren was already heading out the door, his synthesized voice the only attention he offered. “A Resistance base. Our spies have intel that the old man is being moved there.” Just as he was about to reenter the lift he turned his helmet back to the bridge and you could feel his gaze from behind the visor. “Do your job and get it done.” 

Commotion erupted across the bridge, officers panicked whether their positions were implicated. Hux began barking orders as if his position merited any concern. Despite the thousands of men and women who wouldn’t be engaged in the mission, every individual who was even remotely tied to the operation would be on alert. Commander Ren was not to be crossed, and you had the sinking feeling that you had somehow done so.   
  


 

 

* * *

 

 

Weeks of fruitless searches had driven everyone on the ship to madness, so even you were excited about the tip. Tekka had been seen with a group of Resistance fighters on the fringes of the Wilds. With any luck, they would catch the old man, find Skywalker, and be done with Leader Snoke and Ren’s paranoia over the Jedi. Then you could begin the real work.

Instead, heavy pounding rattled your door. Before you could answer, a furious ebony mass poured in. Ren had a way of filling any space he occupied with his broad frame, and your quarters were no exception. At least for once he had stormed in when you were fully clothed. 

Ren moved in striking distance of you and stopped, his helmet pointing towards your glare. “Get ready; we’re leaving on the hour.”

Not that bullshit again. You inched forward, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re not dragging me off on another mission, Ren.” You could hear his inhale, his prepared excuse, and plowed right through them. “And don’t say that the Supreme Leader ordered it because I know you lied last time.”

Caught, he stilled, hands clenched at his sides. After a beat, you watched his body relax. The tone from his helmet was detached, superior. “You’re going because I’m ordering it. Either you prepare and walk to the ship or I’ll drag you there.” You knew he could and would. Ren wouldn’t hesitate to haul you across the ship by your ankles if you ignored him.

Red lined your vision. “Why do you even want me there? I doubt the Resistance is going to negotiate with us.”

“You’re going,” he clipped back at you, then turned to leave.

Always the first to leave. Every. Damn. Time.

“Kriff, you are the worst, you know that?”

Your profanity stopped his retreat long enough for him to turn his head a fraction. Was he looking at you beneath the mask, just out the corner of your eye? Did he see the furious indignation? “Bring a blaster this time, Counselor.” And he continued on. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The division was hastily stuffed on the transport ship, Ren making sure you were wedged in among them. Jumping across the galaxy was going to take a few cycles, and the Command Shuttle would have been more comfortable, but the vessel was too small for the 300-odd stormtroopers and TIE fighters. The Knights were on the Night Buzzard and Ren ignored you as soon as he was certain you were on board, leaving you to fend for yourself.  It was a miracle you were able to find a bunk to sleep on, slotted between the unfortunate troopers pulled into the action off-shift. Between the snores and shuffling, you had only just started to doze off as the emergency alerts jolted you awake. Just in time to be thrown out of bed by what had to be an explosion.

Your head throbbed from the impact against the wall, scurrying troopers sparing no attention to your huddled form. “Shit,” you tried to stand, watching the stream of white file out to the main deck. Another explosion threatened to bring you down as you gripped the steel bunk frame. You could hardly understand the announcer or alerts from the ship’s defense system. Who would attack you? Resistance? The next explosion knocked you back just as you made it to the door.

“Get up, Counselor,” you were wrenched up by a firm grip on your arm. 

“Ren,” the lights cut out just as you caught sight of his helmet. “What’s going on?”

A burst of sparks rained down, stinging the tip of your nose. “We’ve been attacked.” He pulled you along behind him, ignoring the surrounding chaos. You could hear shouts about critical failures and attempts to repair down corridors, but Ren never paused. He wasn’t running but you struggled to keep up with his massive steps. 

“By whom?”

“I don’t know,” his short response left much to be desired. 

It struck you that if there had been an attack, a commanding officer would be expected at the bridge, yet Ren had found you shortly after the explosion. He would have had to have left almost immediately afterward to make it to you so quickly. Something was wrong; Ren never ran from a fight, but he was pulling you away from the bridge and towards the lower level of the transport. “Why aren’t you fighting?”

“The ship is going to explode.”

“What?!” You lurched against his grip just as you came upon an escape pod. A few troopers were already there having abandoned their post, but he paid them no mind.

The pod door opened and Ren climbed into the small space, but you hesitated. “Get in.”

“Kriffing shit. What about the Knights?”

“ _ Get in _ , Counselor.”

“Kylo, what about—”  your feet left the ground as he grabbed your waist and hauled you through the small opening. You were dumped into one of the utilitarian seats and strapped in like a child, your squirms and mumbles ignored. Satisfied that you were restrained, he closed the pod door and strapped himself in. “What are you doing?! What about the crew?”

You were answered by the pressure against your lungs as the escape pod launched. From the small viewport, you could see the shimmering periwinkle surface of a nearby planet, its location reflected on the navigational chart. Better to land on an uninhabited planet than drift in space, specifically if there was a breathable atmosphere. Kylo focused on bringing the small craft forward, so you kept your eyes trained on your hands, trying to push the clamor of the ship out of mind and keep the shock at bay. Your pulse started to slow, your breathing began to even out. You had abandoned the ship. 

There was no warning as the pod shook and began to spiral out of control. Sound couldn’t travel in space, so all you heard was the resulting explosion as debris collided with the pod’s thrusters. Whatever profanity you screamed was lost in a sea of alarms and Kylo’s own emphatic swears. As the pod whirled violently, you got flashes of a fiery explosion where the transport ship had once been. That was where the debris must have come from.

Perhaps it would have been better to die on board the transport ship, vaporized almost immediately in the explosion because the next several minutes facing your inescapable death on the surface of the planet were going to be unpleasant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to rename this fiction to "Fuck I hate space."
> 
> Woo! Cliffhangers are my bread and butter y'all! Hope you're cool with waiting for a month to find out how in the heck you and Kylo get out of this mess. Who knows, maybe I update sooner because we are locked in our houses for the foreseeable future. 
> 
> Thank you as always to wickedness for the edits, thank you to all of you for your support, and thank you to everyone who is performing essential functions in our Covid-19 world!


	20. Forsaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You survived crash-landing onto an unpopulated planet, but will you survive being stranded with Kylo, or will the planet and the company prove too inhospitable?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the longest chapter I have written in ages! Is it the amount of plot I tried to wedge in? The unnecessary amount of dirty talk and smut? Is it that I’m avoiding my real life by writing fanfiction? YOU DECIDE!

Alive. Somehow, against all odds, you were alive. Instead of the dark void of death, you were blinded by the morning sun bouncing off ice-covered ground. The wreckage of the escape pod was strewn about, but as you leaned back, you saw pieces of the interior remained preserved, like a sphere of invulnerability had formed around you just before the impact. You knew the Force was powerful, but you had never imagined the extent.

Something coughed underneath you, your name coming out between heavy breaths. “Are you alright?” Ren was still strapped to the remnants of his seat beneath you, his arms straining around your waist and back. From the sweat on his brow, it wasn’t just his power that took the brunt of the impact.

“I think so,” you murmured, taking more care looking over your savior’s body than your own. 

“You should probably get out of my lap then. We’ll need to move before the rest of the debris catch fire.”

The realization that you were still straddling him brought you out of your shocked state. “Of course,” you scrambled off, trying to look everywhere but his masked face. “That was incredible. I didn’t realize the Force could do that.”

“Most can’t use it that way, but Leader Snoke’s training has allowed me to develop abilities beyond the Sith or Jedi.” 

Leaving the warmth of his chest exposed you to the reality of your circumstances: you were surrounded by frozen tundra. Scraggly brush popped out of the ground and there was little to buffet the cold air but rocks and hills. You had worn a cape and warmer layers on the mission, but had taken off your insulating parka before curling up on the transport bunk. The morning sun and the single red wrapping did little to help you. You grimaced at Ren as you furiously rubbed your arms. “Those abilities wouldn’t include conjuring a shelter, would they?”

“No. There should be an emergency pack somewhere though, as well as a commlink.” From the edges of the decimated ship around the black durasteel container, you could see where Ren had expanded his protection around you to include a storage compartment, well a portion of the storage compartment. There was a large pack, but the commlink was in the nearby rubble.

You lifted the scorched device to your companion. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say the commlink is broken.”

“Shit.” Ren paused time  to survey the area as you shrugged the pack  onto your shoulders, hoping it would give you some added warmth. There were no natural structures nearby, only the beginnings of a mountain range a few miles off in the distance. After a muffled curse, he started hiking away from your unfortunate landing. 

“Shouldn’t we stay near the crash?”

 He stopped only a moment, clearly expecting you to follow. “I’ll sense when they come near, or Iroki will sense me, and we need to find shelter or you’ll freeze. There may be caves near the mountains.”

Your steps in his direction were apprehensive. “And if there aren’t?”

“This burning trash heap will still be here for you to freeze next to. But right now we’re exposed,” he backtracked to you, removing his heavy cloak. Before you could protest he was draping it over you, fastening it at your neck and shoulders. “Wear this.”

“Thanks.” Flushing, you tugged the material closer, bunching it around your exposed hands as you followed him. “What happened?”

“As soon as we exited superluminal, we were attacked by a group of unmarked ships, as well as mines if I’m correct. The tip was a setup. I’m not sure if it was Resistance, Republic Intelligence, or someone else, but they knew how to draw us out.” Someone who knew that you were on the hunt for Lor San Tekka, and ultimately, Skywalker. A major data leak. He said his next words just as the horrible realization dawned on you. “ We have a mole”

_ Shit _ . “This day just keeps getting better.” Your steps had a discernible new weight and frustration as you trudged behind Ren. 

The freezing temperature made every step feel like ten, but at least the sun continued to shine and the frozen ground was compact underneath your feet. Rain or fresh snow would have brought slush and death. Given the exertion, you didn’t bother speaking with your companion any further. Both of you were in a piss poor mood and conjecture about the potential spy wouldn’t help you survive, not then. Shock at your circumstances kept you moving for the first hour, then purpose for the next. It was only in the third hour, when you were finally reaching your destination that your motivation wavered, and the cold of the uninhabited world started to gnaw at your joints.

You were just considering groaning when you bumped into Ren. With your focus on your feet, you had hardly noticed he had stopped and turned around.  “Counselor,” he was turned, looking behind you .

“Yes?”

“Run,” his hand moved to his lightsaber, his body falling into a familiar defensive stance.

“What?” You reflexively pulled your blaster from your thigh, as you turned to follow the path of Ren’s visor. The crash was nothing more than billows of black smoke and  an  orange glow just below the horizon, but between you and your point of entry, something was moving. No, not something, but several things were barreling towards you, snow whirling behind them. As your eyes adjusted, you could see the mess of white fur, massive paws, and gaping jaws. 

Uninhabited by civilization, but not by life. “Wait, what is that? What are those?!”

“RUN,” Ren grabbed your arm and threw you ahead of him.

“Kriffkriffkriff!” Luck kept you from stumbling into a face plant with the frozen ground as you launched yourself forward at full speed. The craggy structure ahead had to be at least another half mile away, and there was no guarantee of shelter when you got there. Out of the corner of your eye, Ren had fallen in step beside you, continuously glancing over his shoulders to keep track of the predators.  You were amazed that he didn’t run ahead, leaving your carcass to serve as a distraction.

Between the cold and your pace, your lungs were on fire. Your legs screamed for a reprieve, but you could hear thudding strides behind you, ghastly snarls. The pack would overtake you in seconds. You could feel the heat and moisture on your neck just as a hiss cut the air.

A red glow cut through the constant white as Ren ignited his lightsaber behind you. Your feet slowed to match your brain, deciphering what was happening, but Ren’s golden stare caught yours. Pupils shrunk from panic and rage. “Go,” his voice was sharp through the vocoder.

Ren’s command was an injection of nitrous into your veins, but even as you went racing ahead, you were certain that Ren was only delaying the inevitable. The creatures were too big, too fast, too many. There was no way he would survive.

That last thought stopped you in your tracks. You spun around, bracing your blaster against your forearm as you searched for your companion. With one arm extended in a clenched fist, the other thrusting his saber through the eyes of a beast, Ren was a specter of death. You could hear the sickening crunch of one beast’s skull collapsing on itself as Ren grabbed hold of it with the Force. Crimson splashed across the white snow as he moved to carve another in half. Where once there had been five, there were only two. Ren moved towards one, preparing to sweep his saber up its gullet as he dropped low. But he miscalculated.

“Kylo!”

The fifth member of the pack closed its mouth around Ren’s arm, pulling him down to the ground. Ren maybe could have taken the one, but with two of the beasts bearing down on him? The inevitable caught up.

Ozone filled your nostrils as you fired shot after shot towards the one gripping his arm until your blaster shut down to prevent from overheating. Time slowed. For a split second, you were uncertain if you had even landed a single hit on the beast, but then the smell of charred flesh met you just as Ren was released. The creature whined as it staggered towards you. Finally collapsing to the ground just as Ren wedged his saber between the ribs of the last animal. 

Ignoring the shock, you ran towards Ren terrified you hadn’t been fast enough to help him. There was too much blood from the battle to tell the source, but from the groan escaping his helmet, he was injured.

“Kylo, you’re hurt! Let me help you,” you stumbled to your knees beside him, ignoring how the snow started to seep into your pants.

Ren ignored you, staggering upwards. Even with the all-black attire, you could tell he was injured from the way he favored one arm. On closer inspection, you could see the tears in the fabric, wet from more than melted ice and mud, where the beast had bitten him. “We need to reach shelter before anything else finds us.” He swept past you and continued towards the ice and rocks ahead as if he knew salvation was either ahead, or nowhere.

Mute, you followed him, praying to whatever entities existed that you would find what you needed.  The sun had moved directly overhead by the time you reached the outcrop, but the temperature had changed little. You honestly had become so inured to the ice in your veins you suspected hypothermia was setting in. Which is why you thought you were hallucinating when Ren crouched by the wall of ice and stone and suddenly disappeared. 

“Ren?” For several long seconds, you were frozen still, refusing to move forward in the chance he had fallen through the snow into an endless pit. Then a familiar black and chrome helmet popped behind a snow bluff.

“Come. There’s a cave here,” he extended his uninjured arm to you, inviting you to the unknown. Your options were slim in the known, so you grabbed his hand, letting him guide you down a small opening you hadn’t seen before. Ren’s hand slid down to your waist, hefting you through an opening into a small cavern and helping take the pack from your shoulder. “Here,” he started pulling things from the pack as you took in your new surroundings.

The cavern was just large enough for you both to stand, with multiple small tunnels around the walls and ceiling. A shaft of light from above barely illuminated the space, and you could already imagine more of the awful creatures from before popping up through some of the tunnels in the night. 

“Think there is anything else down here?” You picked up a flashlight from where Ren had chucked it to the ground and started inspecting the entrances and fixtures within the cave. Nothing seemed like it was ready to collapse on you.

Ren paused, then used the Force to slide a few boulders in front of the largest opening. “No. We’ll be safe.” You shuddered at what could have prompted the precaution. 

Time and water had carved cascading ledges in the rock, like shelves, and Ren began moving your supplies further up. Right— warm air rises, cool air falls. Better to elevate yourself if you were going to survive yet another escapade with the caped commander. “You see, this, this is why I don’t like going on field trips with you,” you muttered as you shined your light over the ration packages he pulled out. Dried meat, a few nutrition portions. Looked like you would be getting your salt intake.

A hiss announced the removal of one helmet, but you didn’t have to look to know Ren was sporting a disbelieving scowl. You could hear it. “Why? Because I keep saving your life?”

“First,” you continued to review supplies without looking at him, but waved a hand in his general direction for good measure, “I just saved  _ your _ life as far as I can tell, and second, because I wouldn’t need saving if I wasn’t here in the first place.” As your flashlight moved across the floor of the cavern, you noticed spots of crimson. Following the trail, you found them concentrated near your companion’s feet.

“Are you blaming me for this?” His golden irises always seemed to shine as they expressed all of his discordant feelings, tugging at your emotions more than you would have liked. 

“Yes! Now come here and let me bandage your arm,” you grabbed the first aid kit up and moved towards him.

Ren pulled the supplies from your hands faster than you anticipated. “I can do it myself. Wrap up in the blanket while I see if there’s a heating element.”

You reached for the kit he held just out of reach. Did he always have to be such a child? “You’re bleeding everywhere,” or at least his saturated sleeve was dripping everywhere. Given the cold outside, you were surprised the moisture hadn’t frozen his arm stiff. 

“Counselor,” you could just see his glare in the dim light of the crevasse, “you’re freezing. You’re more likely to injure me with how bad you’re shaking.” You had hardly noticed but you were, indeed, shivering uncontrollably. Turns out the clicking you heard wasn’t ambient cave noise, but your teeth chattering. 

“Fine,” you grabbed for the orange and foil square. With a few quick snaps, it expanded into a sizable sheet, big enough for several people. The majesty of innovation. Laying Ren’s damp cloak to the side, you wrapped yourself in the covering, surprised by the warmth a fresh layer provided. 

“There’s a heating element, and I saw some wood outside. I'll be back in a little while,” Ren started towards the cave entrance, but he hadn’t opened the kit yet. 

“Will your arm be okay?”

He pulled his helmet back on as he started upwards. “I’ll be fine. Focus on staying warm.”

“Okay.”

You huddled by the wall of the cave for what felt like at least an hour, pulling the blanket around you tighter until only the smallest part of your face was exposed. You hadn’t heard any commotion outside, but that didn’t mean nothing had happened. Perhaps more of the creatures had tracked the scent of Kylo’s blood .  He had beaten them before, but he had two arms then. 

Just as you considered getting up, several pieces of wood tumbled down from the entrance. Relief stilled your heart as familiar black boots collided with the rocky floor of your den. He didn’t acknowledge you as he went about arranging them at the center of the cave, lighting them with the heating element. 

Warmth started to permeate the air, but not enough to coax you out of the wrap. You moved closer to the budding fire where Ren opened a metal canister of water. Pulling off his helmet again, you could see the exertion in his features as he slugged back some of the liquid, then passed it to you.

“I’m glad you shoot better than you run, counselor.” You could see his smirk just above  the cup .

“Who says I wasn’t aiming at you so it would just worry about eating you instead?”

He snorted as he opened the first aid kit. “Then I’m glad you’re a terrible shot.”

Pulling back the shredded portion of his sleeve, you could see the jagged gash on his bicep. After splashing it with sanitizer fluid, he pulled out a roll of cell binding tape, carefully placing it across the wound. It clearly wasn’t the first time he had put himself back together. You would have been dead without his experience and strength.

“Thank you, for saving me, on the ship.”

He didn’t look at you, grunting as he pulled the edges of the wound together and sealed them shut. “Now we’re even.”

“Kylo—” you dropped the blanket from your face hoping he could see the sincerity in your eyes as he looked your way, “ _ thank you _ .”

If he wasn’t already red from the frost and exhaustion, you imagined a blush would be conquering the expanse of his stoic face, all the way to the crests of his ears. His eyes did shoot wide for a moment, then darted away, so you took the little vulnerability you could.

“It probably would have saved you a lot of trouble if you left me behind more than once today,” you forced yourself to laugh, remember the dark thoughts you had in your earlier escape.  _ Less trouble for him and maybe a full belly for one of those nasties. _

“I wouldn't leave you,” he mumbled, pulling his sleeve back into place.

 You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “The Supreme Leader would have gotten over it.” Snoke probably wouldn’t have even brought your death up if his precious apprentice returned. The leader’s priorities had become quite clear in the past few months. 

“Leader Snoke doesn’t motivate all of my decisions.”

The weight of his words would have thrown off your balance had you been standing. Instead, you were left with your jaw hanging, trying to think of a clever response, but coming up with nothing. He needed to stop saying things that made you  _ feel _ , even if it was simply payback for your own words.

After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, you swallowed and reengaged. “Do you think anyone will find us?”

“All of the escape pods are equipped with an emergency beacon. A signal beams automatically to the nearest First Order comm relay.”

You raised your eyebrows. Sounded like an expensive decision had been made in a conversation from which you were absent. Not great, but something you were willing to overlook if it meant your survival. 

Raking his gloved hand through his hair, Ren gave an exasperated sigh, like he could sense your disappointment over a potential misappropriation of funds. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been on a deserted planet following a crash. After I got stranded with Hux, I made sure I’d never repeat the experience.”

Valid reason then. You probably would have wandered out into the snow and offered yourself to whatever would willingly digest you if you had been stuck with the general. The redhead actively enjoyed taunting Ren, so it was surprising he was alive. “Tough break. How long do you think it will be before someone finds us?”

“Considering the personnel on board and the multiple crash signals, probably two days at most,” he prodded at the fire, likely trying to coax more heat. Even if you weren’t borrowing his cloak any longer, it was too wet to provide real warmth.

“Multiple crash signals?” Hope surged through your veins.

“The Night Buzzard. Davi crash-landed the ship somewhere on the planet.” 

The revelation filled you with relief. You had been fighting off the survivor’s guilt, and any change in circumstances helped. “How do you know that?”

“Iroki reached out to me shortly after we landed. I can sense the others with her.”

“Right. The Force. How do you know they took the ship and not an escape pod?”

“We were attacked just as we were coming out of hyperspace, so the Knights were already in the hanger bay. My guess is the ship was damaged before they could get out of range, maybe in the initial attack, but Davi’s a brilliant pilot.”

“As good as you?” You remembered the night on Kiffu, how the other nights had differed to Ren’s superior abilities.

Serious but not cold, Ren’s eyes looked out into his own thoughts. You swore the smallest smile crept into the corner of his full lips. “I may fly well, but Davi understands how a ship operates better than anyone in the galaxy.”

There was the man that Mero and Iroki were absolutely devoted to: commanding, perceptive, and surprisingly gracious when it counted. Real leaders acknowledged the strengths of others. Despite Kylo’s petulance and short temper, he reciprocated the fealty he received with pride and support. Hux had accused the Commander of controlling his subordinates with fear, and while that might have been the perception, it was hardly the truth. Kylo Ren was respected by his Knights because he respected them. You smiled. 

“You’re a good commander. You care about them.”

His golden eyes were even more brilliant in the firelight, focused on his companions he couldn’t see. “I’ve trained alongside some of them my entire life.” As he turned to your way, you could see a crack of light, a door opening. “I started as a Jedi with Skywalker when I was a child. Iroki and Davi were there as well. I never felt like I fit in among them, that something was wrong, but Iroki was insistent on being my friend, and Davi felt just as out of place.”

You could imagine the three of them as kids: Iroki would have been a handful, constantly exploring the world and engaging her peers, but never settling with the crowd. Davi would have been tinkering with any artifact they could get their hands on. And Ben Solo? He probably sulked just as much as Kylo Ren. “That sounds like Iroki.”

“When Skywalker— when my  _ uncle _ ,” his fists grew tight, and the slightest tremble betrayed the pain in the last word, “attempted to murder me in my sleep, I ran. The Supreme Leader took me in and brought the Knights of Ren. They had been off-planet with a few others when the temple was burned, and came looking for me. Iroki and Davi pledged themselves to the Knights, to me, to help me take down Skywalker. They made sacrifices they would not have had to if they had run. I’m responsible for them.”

Your mouth hung open at the revelation. Not just the secrets he was divulging, but that he was divulging them. Ben Solo’s defection, the rise of Kylo Ren suddenly made sense. Before, 

you had imagined that he had simply been a troubled child, likely abandoned by his parents in favor of political aspirations— something you were intimately familiar with. But to have your own family attempt to take your life, and not just your family, but you master and guide? What had been a black and white division in your mind became a field of shadows.

“I didn’t realize,” you cut your own apology short. He wouldn’t want your pity, especially not when he was already vulnerable. There was nothing you could offer him for such deep-dwelling pain and betrayal. All you could do was listen. 

The moment passed, however, and only the whistling wind outside the cave reached your ears. You took the moment to assess his huddled frame, remembering the deep gash in his arm. “Feeling any better?”

Ren shrugged his cowl closer, “It’s fine. Pain helps me access the Force, which I’ll need to reach my Knights.” Even as he seemed to ignore his poorly bandaged wound, shivers wracked through his frame. Enough that you could see in the dim firelight. 

“Does cold have the same effect?”

“No,” he grumbled, bottom lip creeping into a pout. 

Ignoring the immediate chill, you opened your orange and silver chrysalis, holding the material up to expose the space beside you. “Then get in here.”

An internal debate played out over the stage of his freckled features, a mess of emotions he failed to hide. Then the discourse he grappled with settled, and he crawled across the small cave, removed his boots, and slipped into the folds of the blanket with you. He turned outward, leaving his back to you, and his chest exposed to the cold. His shiver barely dissipated, and the pocket of air between you started to leech your own warmth. “Now you're just letting cold air in. You're supposed to share body heat,” he flinched when you placed your hand on his arm, despite avoiding his injury. “Get closer.”

“You’re hardly warmer than me,” he protested in his words, but he followed your touch to roll onto his back. You said nothing as his arms pulled you closer against him, reforming the warm cocoon around your bodies. Laying halfway over his much larger frame, the rise and fall of his chest rocked you into the memory of the night on Coruscant, how close you had been. How close you had been longing to be. 

“There are other ways to warm up,” his murmur rolled over your hair, barely audible even in a small cave on an uninhabited planet. 

Memories flooded your cheeks with heat as you gripped the leather panels of his overcoat. “Some fancy Force breathing technique?”

A hard swallow clicked in the jaw and throat above you, as his body went stiff. A pause, and then, “Skin contact helps, supposedly.” You hazarded a glance up and found his eyes tracking your every move, waiting for a response. His pupils were wide enough to encompass your entire grasp of the common tongue, leaving you with only enough sense to nod your head.

Peeling away each layer seemed to take ages, damp garments that stuck to your skin impeding your movement. The simple act of pulling down your pants had your limbs and joints knocking against his before you shoved them out. Steeling your resolve, you grabbed the bundle of clothes and laid them by the fire as fast as possible before diving back into the blanket. The momentary exposure had you shivering again, pasting yourself against his massive frame, barely flinching at his own chilled skin. You could feel the tension in his body, how his fist clenched against your waist, even as his arms wrapped tight around you. Constantly at war with himself.

“Warmer?” The velvet tone of his voice raised your body temperature several degrees on its own. 

“Yeah? You?” You were warmer, yet you shivered, your nipples straining against your bra.

“Yeah,” he was looking back at you, cheeks ruddy and eyes shining. 

Blood rushed through your veins all the way down to your toes as you both moved towards one another. Not reaching, but being pulled together, like opposing magnets in their natural state. His full mouth trembled as it met yours in a clement kiss, releasing the weeks of tension from your muscles, from your heart. Your hands crept up his chest to wrap around his shoulders. His lips danced over yours, taking gentle tastes of your own until he dared to paint his tongue along your lower lip. It was all the invitation you needed to begin exploring his body with your own.

Kylo’s dark hair was still damp from the snow, or perhaps it was freshly damp from the sweat; it hardly mattered as your fingers raked it back across his scalp. His calloused hands ran down the length of your ribs to hook around your waist, then pulled you to lie above him, your hips situated over his own.  The press of his bulge against the apex of your thighs made you ache, and with steady hands, he guided you to move against him. You wanted to pull back and drink in the sight of him until you were bursting, but the freeze outside your foil wrapping kept you pressed close.

Tracing a line up your spine, his fingers landed on the clasp of your bra, but did not immediately move to unclasp it. Waiting for you to tell him 'no', as if you could. You nipped at his lips, hoping he understood your desire. He did, quickly popping the garment open, letting you slide your arms out as he pulled it away. He wasted no time in bringing his hands to cup your breasts, exploring the shape and weight of them before swirling his thumb around your areolas. You longed to feel his tongue running over them, but didn’t want to test the limits of how much room you had in the wrapping before you exposed your naked skin to the cold.

No longer satisfied with your grinding against his manhood, one hand wandered down to the swell of your hips, toying with your one remaining article of clothing. He traced his thumb along the seam of your underwear, moving his lips to run along your jaw. You moaned as he dipped the digit below the thin material where it ran between your thighs. “Take these off,” not quite an order nor a question. Hesitation in the face of desire. His voice was husky, but it was the earnest expression in his eyes that made you melt.

“Pull them to the side,” your voice mirrored his own as you brought your mouth to his, savoring the taste of his tongue. It would take too long to remove them and you needed to feel him inside you. Kylo shifted to bring his waistband down his thighs, freeing his length and adjusting it to lie along your covered sex. Beyond the thin material of your undergarments, you could feel him twitch with every teasing rub you made. His hand fit between your bodies again to slip underneath the fabric and pull it to the side, his other working to line the soft tip of his cock up with your entrance. 

Burning, then fullness flooded your senses as you were stretched open, knocking the air from your lungs as he pushed halfway on the first thrust, and then knocking stars into your eyes when he bottomed out on the second. Lock and key, you both stilled, taking in the exact fit of your bodies that brought forth both a sense of completion and a need for so much more. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” he sighed into your hair, rocking his hips into yours, your nipples brushing along the plains of his chest. 

A firm grip returned to your waist, pushed and pulled you along his hips. You could barely choke out a response as you felt yourself pull taut around him. “What if it’s you who's made for me, Commander?” It was a valid question; nothing compared to the way merely kissing him made you feel, let alone the way your entire body came alight once he was inside you.

A disbelieving chuckle mixed with his groan, twisting your stomach like a launch into light speed. “No, definitely the other way around,” he huffed, pulling you along his cock at a steady pace.

“Really? Because I’ve been needing you like crazy.” You nipped at his earlobe, earning a firm upward thrust.

Kylo’s strokes didn’t speed, but pushed inward, hitting the spot inside you that made your vision blanche. “A needy slut like you would,” he growled, pulling your hips to roll against him as he willed, “but I’ll give you what you need.” No sooner did the words leave his lips, he was flipping you both around, pulling your knee up to his waist and pressing his weight behind his cock to split you open like a maul and wedge. Almost painfully full and firm, you could feel him bumping at your cervix, trying to reach even deeper. “A needy, wanton, perfect princess.”

A term that should have made you delirious with need was ruined by the reminder of your awkward circumstances. Somewhere on that same frozen sphere, Mero, Iroki, and the other knights might be freezing to death while you were rutting in an emergency blanket in a cave. Way to kill the mood.  “Not that. Not you too,” you pushed against his chest, knowing there was nowhere for him to go. But it had the intended effect, his hips stilling.

“What?” That flicker of fear, fear of your rejection, begged you to soothe him.

“Don’t call me ‘princess.’” Those words belonged to another time and place, to a fantasy, You wanted every second with Kylo contained and possessed wholly by him. 

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what should I call you? A dirty little whore?” The muscled walls of your pussy answered his words with urgency, clenching, imploring him to claim you with whatever name he wanted, so long as he kept fucking you. 

“What about fucktoy, since you’re just made for taking my cum?” Fuck, you weren’t, but at that moment you were. Anything to keep him talking like that.

His pace accelerated and his hips started to roll deeper, carving into the sweet bundle of nerves inside, forcing a gasp from your lungs. From the smoldering laugh that followed, his motions were targeted. How had he mastered your body in such little time? “No, a tease like you, it needs to be subtle,” he leaned down to capture your lips again in a kiss directly opposed to his words. There was nothing subtle about the way his tongue explored yours, how his lips and teeth demanded your attention. Expanding his territory, he moved to suck at your neck, recreating the marks he left on Coruscant. “I want to say it in front of the entire High Command, and know that you’re thinking about my cock inside you.” Like he could enter any room without it crossing your mind.

“Don’t,” you whimpered, arching your back to meet his thrusts. With little else to fight back with, you dug your nails into his shoulder blades and dragged them down.  

Kylo hissed, his length throbbing inside you. As you suspected, any challenge set him off, making him snarl before violently kissing you. He sucked your lips until they were bruised, nipping them hard enough to make you whine. He smirked as he pulled away, satisfied he had put you in your place. “I will,  _ my lady _ ,” he drawled, punctuating the honorific by tugging on your nipple. 

Now that, that was cruel, and there was nothing you wanted more. “Oh, fuck you,” you mewled.

Mischievous laughter warmed you again, your core melting into a puddle at the sound. “You’ll be sitting there, tight little cunt dripping for me,” he panted, the filthy fantasy undoing you both.  “Only my cock can satisfy such a filthy, perfect pussy. Kriff, you can come from my cock alone.” Except it wasn’t just his cock; his whole body was an instrument of annihilation. Your clit was pinched between your pubic bones with each thrust, your nipples pulled against his broad chest.  Even the tone of his voice scrambled all your rational thoughts like an advanced comm frequency.

Every stroke pushed you further to the edge, and you could feel yourself unraveling at the edges. “Kriff, I’m going to come, Kylo,” you cried, praying that whatever came to investigate the clamor had the decency to wait until you reached your peak to eat you. That was all that mattered: finding obscene pleasure from his body molding yours to his image. Your absolute surrender.

“Scream my name when you come. Come just for me,” you could barely see through your wavering eyelids, but Kylo’s stare was locked on your face, taking in every detail of his victory.

“Kylo, I can’t,” it was too much. You were surrounded on all sides, tunnel vision swallowing your reality as it focused where he was plunging in and out, a steady rhythm guaranteed to make you scream.

“Yes, you can. You’ll give me what I want,” his demands were laced with venomous desperation, injected into your bloodstream through manic kisses at your neck, “then I’ll give you what you  _ need _ .” 

“Kylo!” You howled as he finally overwhelmed your nervous system into submission, every fiber of your being seized in ecstatic pleasure. Your pussy pulsed around him, your body quaked. 

Lips and tongue trailed along your neck and up to your ear, humming praises as if you had done anything other than lie there and be pleasured. “That’s it, so fucking tight. Fucking meant for my cock, my cum.” His voice was ragged with lust as he growled your name, more enticing than ever. He had unmade you; it was only fair that he faced the same fate. 

“Kylo, it’s too much— you have to—” But he didn’t stop. He was plowing into you, chasing his own release while you slowly lost touch with reality. Every sensation too much, so intense it bordered pain and pleasure.

“Keep saying my name. Going to fill you up.” His words were wasted: you were already chanting his name, oblivious to anything but those two syllables as he scorched every nerve in your body. Your cunt clenched so tight that you could feel every vein and ridge of his cock between your walls. And just as you bellowed his name one more time, begged for salvation, you could feel him pulse within. Kylo growled as he fulfilled his promise, unloading a month's worth of tension and desire into you. “Fuck, take it all,” he groaned into the soft flesh of your neck. The feeling of his cum filling you was all it took to push you over the edge again, your body desperate to receive his offering.

The aftershocks of your orgasms left you shuddering beneath the weight of his body. “That’s it. Milk my cock,” his hips slowed to a roll as he purred in your ear. Kylo groaned your name as he made one final thrust inside, grinding his body against yours before collapsing onto your chest. Pulling him closer with your legs around his waist, you started stroking your hands across his back, matching your breathing to his.

Eventually, release and exhaustion settled into your bones. As did the realization that it was very difficult to breathe with a mountain of a man on top of you. 

“Kylo?”

“Yes,  _ my lady _ ?” He mumbled into the valley of your collarbone.

“It's a little hard to breathe.”

“Too bad.”

“After all this effort to save me, seems a waste to suffocate me.”

“Fine,” he pushed back up onto his forearms, bearing more of his weight, but he remained above you. Inside you. 

You wiggled an arm down between you so you could play with a lock of his hair that had been tickling your neck. “The emergency blanket was a bit restrictive, but I approve of fucking for warmth.”

“Let me sleep, then I’ll fuck you until you melt.”

“And if the transport comes before then?”

He considered you hypothetical as he reached to tug the emergency blanket back around you, then smirked down at you. “Then I’ll fuck you on the ship.” Well, that sounded like a terrible idea that you would absolutely insist on. 

The intimacy of the moment struck you. You were ashamed that you had been manipulating him before, but the shame was eclipsed by the excitement at his words.  _ Again _ . He wanted to be with you, at least with your body, and not simply to fuck you into submission. At least, you hoped not. 

“You’re not ignoring me anymore?” You bit your lip, hoping you didn’t seem too obvious. Or desperate. 

His expression darkened. “No. You’re too difficult to ignore.”

You didn’t press further. No need to ask what kept him away so long as he came back. You both knew what came between you in the first place, and would push its way between you again: fear. Discord was what the Supreme Leader wanted, so you needed to savor the moments of armistice when they came, and pray that they would last longer than the war.

Moving cautiously so as not to open the blanket— with his climax went his tolerance for the cold, it seemed— Kylo slid his arm beneath you, moving to spoon your side. Only then did his softening cock slip out, a string of sticky cum following it to trail along your thigh. Regardless of any intentions he had, the first thing you were doing when you reached the  _ Finalizer _ was taking a shower. 

His fingers danced over the soft skin of your stomach, up to your breasts, then down to your hips. You could feel the pads of his fingers catching against the tacky splash on your thighs and tense.

“This is an...  _ oversight _ on my part but, are you using, umm, uh—”

Your eyes widened in realization. The possibility hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“Am I using contraceptives?” You rolled over to face him, your snark uncontainable. “Why yes, that is a massive ‘oversight’ and a bit too late.” His pale skin turned flushed and warm under your touch as you braced one hand against his broad chest, running the other through his sable tresses. Stars, his hair was perfect.

Even in the dim light, he couldn’t maintain eye contact. “Well, I know there are pills you can take, but I thought they only worked within a certain time span and since we’re stranded at the moment,” his voice trailed off. It seemed that it was possible to embarrass the commander into silence. 

“Uh huh,” the scowl of shame on his face was almost too adorable to tolerate. “You’ll be relieved to know that like most female personnel, I do have the required implant,” you brought his hand to the underside of your arm so he could feel the small disc that laid just beneath the skin. “Leader Snoke makes sure I get a new one every year.”

The grip at your implant tensed beneath your fingers. “Wait, Leader Snoke? Are you—”

You couldn’t press your hand over his mouth fast enough. “Don’t finish that question. You’re already ruining the afterglow.” Now it was your turn to flush. Pushing gently against his chest, you rolled over top of him. “No, I’m not the Supreme Leader’s mistress, despite rumors. Not to say he doesn’t use my sexuality to his advantage.”

The clenched muscles underneath you eased with the clarification, but not completely. Kylo, like most, didn’t find your response as matter of fact as you did. “What?”

“I mean, you’ve seen it. Attraction, desire, intimacy: they can all be leveraged, they can all be weaponized. Leader Snoke can’t exactly wield them in his condition, but he taught me how,” you huffed. The Supreme Leader had never instructed you into anyone’s bed explicitly, but he had done just about everything else, and went so far as to praise you for using sex against a contact. Even without being ordered, considerations of how any intimacy or action might affect your work were so pervasive they had become second nature.

A single spot in the small of your back captured his attention based on the constant circles he drew there with his thumb. “That doesn’t bother you? Given your, umm, experience?”

“No. Sex doesn’t bother me; it’s just sex. Actually, after—well, after what happened, happened, it was different. For a few months, I found myself in lots of different beds. I figured, if I was fucking constantly, it didn’t mean anything. And if it didn’t mean anything, neither did what happened.” You had never spoken the words aloud in the years since the incident. The cornerstone of your philosophy, your life, unearthed so casually to reassure a man you were actively employed in tormenting. What was happening to you? “The Supreme Leader says it’s an advantage, not developing attachments and using my body as a tool.”

“Sex is meaningless to you?” His words were soft, personal offense and pain lingering at the edges. 

“No. I just get more choice in saying how much it means to me. I control how I feel and what’s important. No one else.”

“And this?” With just those two words you could hear his unfinished question seeking the unacceptable answer. Kylo didn’t have to finish, and it was clear to both of you he couldn’t.  _ And this? Was this important? _ Nothing could be said that would satisfy the truth without leading to your undoing. It was important because it was what the Supreme Leader willed. It was important because your bodies fit with the sort of exact measurements that required calipers. It was important because you had never felt so safe and certain as you did wrapped in his embrace. 

Acknowledging such importance would only reignite the battlefield, so you made a tactical retreat.

Cupping his jaw, you kissed the forbidden truth onto his lips. “This is what I want.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: unprotected sex without testing is how you get/give space gonorrhea and that shit is super antibiotic-resistant. Even if you are on the pill or have an implant, always talk about it first! This has been a PSA from your local branch of Dumpster Fire Smut Writers.
> 
> Thank you guys for all the comments and kudos. They give me LIFE. Even though I haven't sat down and responded to all of your wonderful messages, I will soon! Now that I'm no longer a student, maybe we'll even see more chapters!


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